In the Name of the Law
by Nyiestra
Summary: A woman turns up dead and all signs point to Trent Malloy as the guilty party – but is there more to the story, and can Carlos, Alex, and the Rangers search out the truth?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** In the Name of the Law

**Summary:** A woman turns up dead and all signs point to Trent Malloy as the guilty party – but is there more to the story, and can Carlos, Alex, and the Rangers search out the truth?

**Disclaimer:** However much I wish I owned Trent, I own none of them.

**A/N: **For my purposes, Carlos never left the Dallas Police Department, and CD never died. This is set sometime season 9ish or after. Anyone know for sure how old Tommy was at any given point during either Walker or Sons of Thunder?

**Chapter 1**

"Hey, Tr—" Carlos Sandoval broke off at the sound of raised voices coming from the dojo's main room. He took another step forward, feet light on the floor, but remained in the entryway – something told him he shouldn't interrupt.

"I don't like this!" That was Trent Malloy, and he sounded more angry than Carlos could remember having heard him. Whatever was going on had to be something important, to get him so worked up. The man was a veritable saint, and Carlos generally envied his control over his temper.

The next voice he heard was unfamiliar, belonging to a female, and just as angry as Trent's. "You can't stop me."

The sound of a fist against leather urged Carlos half a foot further, just until he could see his friend and the girl. Trent was hugging a heavy bag, stilling it before turning to face the brunette standing behind him. "I can think of a few ways." His deep voice resonated with the same anger, but also a trace of pain.

"You wouldn't dare." The woman threw her hands up in the air and turned away from Trent, looking straight in Carlos's direction. He backed behind the wall quickly, but not before seeing her face. She was a pretty girl, probably about his and Trent's age, give or take a few years. She wore glasses, and her hair just brushed her shoulders.

What drew his attention, though, was the bruising on her left cheek, the purplish color ringing her left eye. Mentally, Carlos warred with himself, but as the couple fell silent, Carlos took his leave of the karate school, deciding he'd figure out how to broach the subject with Trent in the morning.

-------------------------

"Wha—" Carlos rolled over in bed, slapping at his alarm clock, only to have the ringing continue. He forced one eye open and groped for his cell phone. "Sandoval."

"Get your ass out of bed. We got a homicide called in, Center Street."

That got his attention. He sat up in bed, ramrod straight, instantly awake. It was too close to the karate studio for his comfort. "Man or woman?"

"Female."

As bad as he felt for it a moment later, knowing that somewhere, someone was going to be told that their daughter or wife or mother wasn't coming home, Carlos breathed a slight sigh of relief. "What time is it?"

"Six thirty."

"Give me twenty." Shower and breakfast would have to wait, no matter how much his stomach would hate him for it.

-------------------------

Carlos flashed his badge at one of the uniformed officers, a woman he vaguely recognized – if he was placing her right, she'd started just before his promotion – as he ducked under the yellow crime scene tape. "Sandoval, homicide. What've we got?"

"Whitmore," she introduced herself, falling into step beside him as they walked toward the body. "Caucasian, mid- to late-twenties. She was found a little after six a.m. by a garbage collector. Talked to a wino holed up in the alley, said she was jumped by a blond man around eleven last night. Said the guy seemed to know what he was doing, and the ME agrees." She pointed to a man leaning over the trunk of a car.

He thanked her and approached the man, introducing himself once more. "Detective Sandoval, homicide."

"Lucky you. Mike Dennison."

"Whitmore said you think the killer might've been a pro?"

"Yeah. Precise blows. She took a beating before she died. Bruising on the knuckles and knees suggests she fought back, and on the back of the arms looked like she blocked a few good blows. Clean markings, and it was a clean blow to the throat that killed her – crushed her windpipe."

Something felt wrong about this, but Carlos only nodded. "Let's take a look at her."

Dennison nodded, handing him a pair of latex gloves before heading over to the body, now loaded onto a stretcher standing beside a chalk outline on the ground. He held up a hand to the paramedics, stopping them as they started to zip up the all-too-familiar black bag around her.

Carlos couldn't stop his eyes from going wide, but, he hoped, managed to quell any other signs of surprise. The face staring back at him with empty eyes, framed with wavy brown hair just brushing her shoulders, was one he'd seen before – approximately eight hours ago.

_I should never've gotten out of bed this morning._ "Give me a call as soon as you're done with the autopsy," he told the medical examiner, digging a business card out of his back pocket. "Or before that if you turn up anything strange."

"Will do." The man headed back to his vehicle, and Carlos sought out Whitmore once more, asking her to direct him toward the bum she'd mentioned.

The man, wearing tattered rags that might have once passed for clothes and a wool cap with more patches than original material, was nursing a bottle concealed in a plain paper bag. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"No sirree."

He could hear a slight slur in the man's voice but he seemed to be focused, so Carlos pursued. "Officer Whitmore said you saw a blond man attack the woman last night?"

The wino nodded. "He talked to her; couldn't hear what she said, but… looked like she knew him. Then she started to walk away an' he kicked her in the back of her legs. She fell down, but she about bounced right up. Damnedest thing, like in the movies. You know those movies?" The man looked at him curiously.

Not only did he know them; he lived them from time to time. "Yeah, I do. What happened then?"

"He was kickin' her and hittin' her and she mos'ly defended herself, but she got a few in 'erself. I's kinda rootin' fer her. Then he jus' swung his hand out and she fell and he took off runnin' down the road."

"Which direction?"

"Attaway." The man pointed past Carlos in the general direction of the karate studio. "Didn' see where he went."

"What time was this? Can you give me a rough estimate?"

"Better'n that. Were about ten after eleven."

"You're sure about that?" He didn't appear to have any sort of timepiece.

"Yep." The man pointed behind him, and Carlos turned to see a clock outside a bank. He glanced at his watch. It was dead on.

"Thanks." He turned back. "Can you tell me what he looked like?"

"Um, hmm." He tilted his head back and looked up at Carlos. "Maybe a little shorter'n you, light hair, small sorta guy."

"If you saw him, would you be able to recognize his face?"

He shook his head. "Never saw it."

_Great. Getting better by the minute._ "Thanks for your time." The wino nodded and wandered off, taking a long draw on his bottle as he went.

Carlos stayed where he was, the crime scene folks packing up around him, and slowly turned to stare down the road toward Thunder Karate.

-------------------------

Bouncing from foot to foot, Trent relaxed a little more with each time his fists or feet connected with the punching bag. He was, however, a bit too focused on his workout, as when he heard Carlos call his name and spun around, it was all he could do to pull the punch in time. Leaning forward and resting his gloved hands on his knees, he looked up sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"I'll live." Carlos smiled, but it was obvious that the expression was forced. "In kinda late today?"

Straightening up, Trent gave him a quizzical look, but nodded. "Yeah. My mom's having trouble with Tommy, asked me if I could come out and talk to him."

"Do any good?"

He shook his head. "Not unless you consider getting a door slammed in my face good."

"You two are too much alike, you know that?"

"In some ways," Trent agreed, then went on, "though Tommy has a better head on his shoulders than I did at his age." The blond bent over, picking a towel up off the floor and mopping off his forehead. "Anyway, what brings you out here on a Saturday?"

"Got a case, homicide about a block away."

"Yeah, I saw the police line when I came in." He draped the towel around his neck, holding lightly onto both ends. He was starting to get a bad feeling. "Carlos, what's up?"

"Y'know, I, uh, stopped by last night. Was gonna ask you if you wanted to go out and grab a drink, but you had company. Dark haired girl, pretty."

Together, they walked toward the back of the dojo, Trent wanting to change into street clothes. "Yeah, she's a student of mine, came in… early this year, I guess, looking for private lessons." In reality, he knew the exact date she'd stopped by, because it was right about then his life had started to spiral out of control. But he couldn't tell Carlos that.

"I never met her before."

Trent shrugged, uneasy. There was something his friend wasn't saying, and he didn't like it. "She's got a pretty hectic schedule, doesn't know when she'll be free from week to week. I see her a couple times a month." In the karate school, that was. Outside of it, a lot more frequently.

When Carlos spoke again, there was skepticism in his voice that didn't go unnoticed. "Just a student?"

"Yes, just a student. Carlos, what's going on?"

"Heard you fighting last night. You seemed… pretty angry."

Trent set his jaw and looked away, picking up his jeans and shirt, glancing past Carlos and toward the stairs. Then he shrugged. "You know me; I get too involved for my own good sometimes." _Leave it at that, Carlos. Please._

The detective shifted from foot to foot. "What's her name?"

"Gail. Gail Roderick. Why?" He hated dancing around a subject like this, especially with Carlos. "Tell me what's—"

"I'm sorry, man."

The clothes in his hand hit the floor. The words could only mean one thing, but even so, he had to ask. Maybe, maybe, he was wrong. "What?"

"She's dead. She was beaten to death, last night, down the street."

"I…" Trent tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. _Oh, Gail._ He looked away for a moment, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. "Sorry, I… wasn't expecting that. You have anything to go on?" In the back of his mind he wondered if Carlos could see through him. He probably could; he'd never really been able to hide anything from the man.

"Actually, yeah." Carlos raked a hand through his hair and, if possible, seemed to grow even more uneasy. "Witness, saw the whole thing. Can't ID the killer, but gave me a pretty good description. Slim blond man, not too tall. ME says the perp was probably trained." He finished with a pointed look in Trent's direction.

It took a moment for his friend's words – and their full meaning – to sink in, but when they did, Trent felt his entire body go rigid. "Carlos, you can't think—"

"I don't, but I have information that I don't have a choice but to report." There was a pleading look in his eyes. "What were you fighting over?"

After a very long silence in which Trent watched the detective grow more and more resigned, he asked, "What did you hear?"

"I can't tell you that."

"I'm not trying to scam you. I just want to know where to start." This couldn't really be happening. Gail, dead, and Carlos practically accusing him of her murder. It was surreal.

"The beginning is usually a good place."

His friend wouldn't like the answer he was going to give. "I can't."

The detective's eyes widened in surprise. "Trent, you don't have a choice. Everything I have right now points to you. You have to give me something!"

"I'll give you _something_; I just can't give you everything."

"Well, let's start with something then, huh?" Carlos took a couple steps back and sat down on the mat, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his hands. After a second, Trent lowered himself down as well, folding his legs in front of him.

"I've been working with her; she wanted to do something that I didn't think was a good idea."

"I gathered that. I heard her tell you that you couldn't stop her. Took that as my cue to leave."

"Now you're definitely trying to bait me," Trent muttered. "I assume you heard me tell her I could think of a few ways."

"Yeah," Carlos admitted. "What ways?"

"Call her boss, for one. Call Walker, for another." He should have. He should have done both, a long time ago. "Anyway, she left about ten minutes after that. You didn't miss much by not hanging around." At that, something flashed in Carlos's eyes, but Trent wasn't sure what and didn't bother to ask as his friend changed the subject.

"Who's her boss?"

"I can't tell you, Carlos."

Carlos leaned forward. "I don't think you get it, Trent. You saw her and argued with her last night. She was killed down the street, an hour after I saw you with her, by a man who fits your description and has been trained in the martial arts. You _have_ to give me something to go on, 'mano, or you're gonna go down for this and I won't be able to do anything about it."

"You don't understand." Trent unfolded his legs. "There are lives at stake here, Carlos – months of work, and two deaths already, not counting Gail's."

"Trent, _listen to me_. Yes, there are lives at stake, and this time one of 'em's yours." When Trent looked away and didn't respond, his friend reached a hand out and forced him to look at him. "Damn it, Trent!" he exclaimed, eyes darkening with concern and anger. "For once in your life would you put yourself first?"

"Carlos—"

But the detective wasn't finished yet. "Or if you won't do it for yourself, think about what this will do to your family. How will your mother handle you being arrested for murder? How would Tommy react to you being convicted?"

That got a reaction from him, just as Carlos had certainly expected it would. "Don't play that card, Carlos." He was surprised at the venom in his own voice.

"I'm not playing a card, Trent. _Think_ about it." Carlos shook his head and looked a little sick. "I _have_ to do my job here; I don't have a choice."

"Do your job, then, and I'll do mine." It was as final a dismissal as he'd ever made to Carlos, and his friend didn't misunderstand. He rose slowly, nodding, and walked out without another word. Trent watched him go, more shaken than he'd been willing to let on, then leaned backward, letting his head hit the floor. He stared up at the ceiling, seeing instead her face before him, smiling down.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Walker, d'you have a minute?"

"More than that. Alex is working late." The Ranger paused. "What brings you down here at this hour?"

Carlos came the rest of the way into the office and dropped into a chair in front of the desk, glad everyone else had apparently gone home for the day. "Crisis of conscience. You hear about the murder down near Trent's place?"

"Yeah. Heard you got an eyewitness too."

The detective nodded slowly. "I do, but… Walker, I gotta ask you something, in confidence."

The older man clasped his hands on the desk in front of him and nodded. "What's on your mind?"

"Witness says that the killer was slim, blond, and trained in hand-to-hand combat."

"That's it?" Walker frowned. "There are a lot of people who would fit that description."

"But not a lot who knew her and fought with her the night before." This was getting harder by the second; Walker had known Trent much longer than he'd known Carlos, and almost saw him as a son.

"You have a suspect already?" Surprise was evident in the Ranger's voice, and at his next words, Carlos cringed inwardly. "Why haven't you brought him in yet? Can't find him?"

"Oh, I can find him; I talked to him this morning." Somehow, this conversation wasn't going quite as he'd planned. But then, nothing ever seemed to with Walker; he always felt like the man could see right through him and read his mind. Now was no exception. "Walker, it's Trent."

For the first time in the nearly three years since he'd met the Ranger, the man had been rendered completely speechless. When he regained control over his thought processes, though, he was all business, in a way that Carlos admired. "You said he knows her? Fought with her?"

"Yeah; I saw them last night; I'd stopped by the dojo to ask him if he wanted to go out. They were there, arguing over her wanting to do something and him wanting to stop her. She said he couldn't stop her, he said he could think of a few ways, and she said he wouldn't dare."

"You talked to him today, asked him about it?" Carlos nodded. "What'd he say?"

"Not much. He said they were working together, and the ways he talked about included calling her boss and calling you."

"Me?"

A second time in one night he'd managed to catch Walker by surprise. Why couldn't he do this when he was in a mood to gloat about it? "Yeah. I don't know why. He wouldn't tell me what he was working on; he wouldn't tell me who her boss is. He says there are lives at stake and people have died already."

"Something doesn't seem right."

Carlos choked. "No kidding." He stood up and began to pace back and forth. "He couldn't have done it, Walker. But… he fits the description, he has the training, he was arguing with her. What I heard last night can easily be made to sound like a threat."

"Do you think it was?"

"No!" The word came out more forceful than he'd intended it to. "You know him, Walker. He's… he's incapable of killing someone when they deserve it, never mind murdering someone in cold blood. There's just no way."

"Then what's the problem, Carlos?"

"It's not that I don't believe him; it's that I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to prove he didn't do it. His story doesn't make sense, Walker."

"How so?"

Carlos frowned. The man ought to show at least a little emotion. "I came in around quarter to ten. She was there, they fought. The started to calm down, and I left, about five of ten. Trent said she left probably ten minutes after I did. That doesn't work with her being a block away an hour later, when the bum said he saw her attacked."

"You're sure he's right about the time?"

"Clock outside a bank across the street."

"You mention that to Trent?"

He shook his head, forcing himself to sit down again. "Didn't want to get barked at for giving him too much information, if I do end up having to bring him in."

"I don't know that there's any 'if' about it, Carlos. Have you told anyone what you know?"

"Not yet. I didn't know what to do."

"You can't help Trent if it looks like you're trying to cover something up. Do your job, investigate Trent and the girl, and you'll find the truth."

"I don't know, Walker…"

"I'll look into it too. Tomorrow, I'll have a couple of my people see what they can dig up on her. What's the name?"

"Gail Roderick." This was another piece to the puzzle. "That was the name on her license – her handbag was left behind, wallet, money and all – but I haven't been able to find anything on the name. It's the same name Trent gave me though."

Walker looked thoughtful. "I'll talk to Alex; between the two of us we can probably call in a favor or two. I'll let you know what we come up with, as soon as we have anything."

"What do I do in the meantime?"

"You're not gonna like it."

"I don't like anything right now, Walker. No offense."

Finally, the man showed a trace of emotion in a hint of a smile. "None taken. The best thing you can do right now, Carlos, is bring Trent in for questioning. No warrants, no arrest. But bring him downtown, get everything on record, make sure it's all letter-perfect. The less anyone can accuse you of in this situation, the better it will look for Trent." He paused. "Besides, there's only one way to find out what really happened."

Yeah. Too bad it had to involve dragging his friend's good name through the mud.

-------------------------

Alex closed one manila folder, placed it on top of a stack of six others, then glanced at the pile still waiting for her attention – twice as high as the other. Just as her fingertips brushed the next, the phone rang. She stared at it for a moment before answering, "If this isn't someone telling me that I've just won a million dollars, I'm hanging up." There was only one person that would be calling her this late.

"Sorry," her husband's voice came over the line. "I'm waiting for that same phone call myself. Maybe we can wait together later?"

"Mmm, sounds good to me. What's up?"

"I need you to do me a favor."

"Oh, Walker," she groaned. "Please don't tell me I have to wake up a judge. One of them already changed his phone number just to hide from me." She couldn't keep from smiling when she heard his deep laugh in response.

"No, no judges. And this can probably wait until morning; I just wanted to give you a heads up before you left work tonight."

"What do you need?"

"Information on a woman named Gail Roderick. It's not her real name; I'd be willing to bet that it's a cover name for a federal agent. All I really need is her real name. I'm going to have Gage and Sydney check her out in the morning."

She scribbled the name on the top of a fresh page of her legal pad and, pen poised over the paper, asked, "Any idea what agency?"

"Not a clue. I'd guess DEA or FBI, but that's really just a shot in the dark. I know it's not much to go on, but it's important we find out who this woman was."

"Who she _was_? Walker, what's going on?" Alex set the pen down and tightened her grip on the phone. "Walker?"

"She was murdered last night. Carlos Sandoval is the detective assigned to the case, but he's run into a roadblock finding out anything about her."

"What's so important? Sounds like another Jane Doe. What makes you think she was an agent?"

"She was working with Trent on something. We don't know what."

Alex blinked and shook her head slowly. "I don't understand, Walker. If she was working with Trent, why don't you just ask him? Or has something happened to him?" She closed her eyes and held her breath, waiting for his answer.

"No, not yet." There was a heavy silence on the line. "Right now, everything points to Trent as the killer. Carlos has talked to him once, and he wasn't interested in giving him much information, just said that there are too many lives at stake."

"Walker… what would Trent be involved in? I thought he was still taking jobs spying on cheating husbands?" Alex loved Trent; Walker thought of him as a son. But his investigations agency hadn't been the most successful enterprise.

"That's what I need to find out." She could detect just the slightest strain in his voice.

"I'll do what I can. I'll put in a call tonight, actually." Alex paused. "Walker, what's going to happen to Trent?" She didn't know much of the story, but he certainly seemed to be taking it very seriously.

"Carlos is bringing him in for questioning now; we'll find out who's really responsible, but until then, there's really nothing that can be done. Trent has to be treated like the prime suspect."

"Great." Shaking her head she said, "I'll be another hour or so."

"I'll see you at home, Alex." A moment later she heard the click indicating he'd hung up, and she replaced the receiver on the cradle. Then she reached for her rolodex, flipping through until she found the name she was looking for. Knowing him, he'd still be in his office, provided he wasn't in the field. She hoped he wasn't in the field. If he was, she'd be a lot longer than an hour.

-------------------------

"Have a seat." Carlos gestured toward one of the four chairs in the interrogation room and sat down opposite the one Trent selected. He could almost feel eyes boring into his back, and knew he'd have to put on a good show. He just wasn't sure how much would be show and how much would be the real thing.

"What was the nature of your relationship with Gail Roderick?"

"We were friends, and coworkers."

"How long have you worked with her?"

"Seven months."

"What were you working on?"

Trent met his eyes and held his gaze until Carlos looked away himself. "I can't say."

"Who were you working for?"

"I can't say."

This was going wonderfully. He'd never have let any other suspect get away with giving him answers like that, but this was Trent. He wasn't sure he could bring himself to push the man too far. "_Why_ can't you say?"

"It would endanger people; I can't do that."

_Y'know, Carlos, they say it's a sign of insanity to do the same thing over and over again and expect a different result._ Why, really, had he thought Trent would give him a different answer this time? He took another angle. "What was her real name?"

Trent blinked, and Carlos felt a twinge of sickening pride at having caught him off-guard. "I… I only ever knew her as Gail. I figured it was a cover name, but I never asked and she never offered the information."

"In the time you worked with her, did you ever practice against her – spar, fight, anything?"

Giving him a confused look, Trent nodded. "Yeah. She'd had some training – a little beyond basic academy-esque hand-to-hand, but I worked with her a lot in our downtime, sometimes even when we were working."

"How skilled was she?"

"She had a long way to go, but she could hold her own."

Carlos closed his eyes for a moment, arguing with himself over whether to ask the next question that had come to mind, certain he shouldn't but knowing he would. "What degree of training would you expect someone to have in order to best her?"

"More than you have," Trent replied, and for just a second, Carlos could see the smile in his friend's eyes that he was accustomed to being there, and he laughed himself.

"That doesn't really say much."

"I know," the martial artist countered. Then he shrugged. "I don't know. Blue belt, maybe. Purple, definitely."

"And what level are you at, for the record?" Another question he knew the answer to.

"Black." It wasn't the most damning part of the interview, but neither was it going to help Trent's case.

Carlos studied him for a few silent minutes and, he noticed, even Trent's training couldn't keep him from shifting under his gaze. There was something he wasn't saying; he'd picked up on it even talking to him in the dojo. As much as he didn't want to try to break him down in front of his colleagues – not only did he not want to do that to his friend, but he wasn't sure he'd win if he tried – he had to do something. Abruptly, he changed the subject.

"What, ah, did you say your relationship with her was?"

Trent looked at him quizzically. "I told you. We were coworkers and friends."

"That's it?" Carlos raised an eyebrow. "What _covers_ were you using? Brother and sister?"

Trent knew where he was going with this; he could see it in his eyes. "No. We were posing as a couple."

As he'd expected. "Married?"

"No. She… was inside first, and brought me in as her boyfriend."

"I've, ah, been undercover a time or two," Carlos said slowly, not that he needed to tell Trent that. The man knew well, both the nature and the outcome of at least one major undercover assignment. "It gets kind of hard to avoid crossing the line between business and pleasure. That, ah, never happened to you two, huh?"

The blond man fidgeted again as he replied in the negative and Carlos's instinct took over, homing in on the weakness he'd detected. "Never? Completely professional relationship?" He stood and folded his arms across his chest. "I don't buy it."

"Carlos—" It was the first time either of them had used the other's name, and as much as his stomach clenched at the thought, he had to use the opening it gave him.

"Malloy," he said coldly, wincing internally as his friend recoiled at the hostility in his voice, "try again. What was the nature of your relationship with Gail Roderick?" He repeated his first question word for word.

There was a long, slightly heart-wrenching silence between them before Trent finally replied, "We were dating."

"Dating," Carlos repeated. "Why'd you lie?"

Trent sighed, and the sound of his resignation echoed through Carlos's mind. "Because I didn't know what to do." His voice took on a sort of calmness that sent a chill down the detective's spine.

"Did you love her?"

Trent's head jerked up, his eyes wide with shock before narrowing abruptly. "What do you think?"

Almost anyone else would have taken that answer as a negative. Carlos, on the other hand, understood the response for exactly what it was. "Well, for someone who was so in love, you don't seem too broken up." He regretted the words instantly, even before he saw the pain in his friend's eyes.

"We all deal with things in different ways," Trent bit out.

It was true; he knew that, and it made his earlier comment all the more cruel. He couldn't even recall Trent crying when his father died. He couldn't say that now, though, so he only replied, "I suppose we do."

He took a deep breath, unable, in good conscience, to continue with this line of questioning. "You saw Gail the night she died, correct?"

"Yes." There was gratitude in Trent's eyes that Carlos didn't entirely feel he deserved.

"What did you talk about?"

"She wanted to do something relating to our… case that I thought was too dangerous, not worth the risk. She told me I couldn't stop her from doing it, and I told her I could think of a few ways."

"What would those ways be? Maybe one that was actually carried out?"

"No!" That was the most emotion he'd heard in the private investigator's voice in this whole session. "I was worried that what she wanted to do was too dangerous. Why would I kill her to stop her from doing it?"

That… was a really good point, and Carlos was at a loss to respond to it. "Why don't you tell me?" It was a copout, and they both knew it.

"I can't tell you, because I didn't kill her."

He couldn't bring himself to challenge Trent on that, and so changed the subject once more. There was one thing left that he hadn't touched on. "What time did she leave Tuesday night?"

"About ten, maybe just after."

"She was a block away when she was killed, just after eleven. Eyewitness was able to give us the exact time. It doesn't take an hour to walk a block." He forced himself to look skeptical. "Any idea where else she might have gone at that hour? There's not much else down in that part of the city."

Trent sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. She shouldn't have gone anywhere else. I made her swear she'd just go home."

Great. Just great. He raked a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to respond, but was saved when another detective, Rob Davies, opened the door and motioned him over. Speaking in low tones he said, "Captain says to let him go, but tell him not to leave the city."

Carlos gave a short nod as Davies took his leave, then turned back to face his childhood friend. "You're free to go, but don't leave town." As Trent stood slowly, Carlos reached a hand out. "C'mon, I'll take you home."

"Don't bother; I'll call my mother."

"Trent—" But he walked out without another word.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sydney walked toward Walker's desk, her partner half a step behind her. A Hispanic man she didn't recognize was standing by their boss, deep in conversation with Walker and his partner Trivette. They reached the threesome just in time to hear the senior Ranger say, "Alex called and said she'd be coming by."

Walker noticed their presence and tapped the man on the shoulder. "Detective Carlos Sandoval, this is Ranger Sydney Cooke and Ranger Frances Gage."

"Good to meet you." There was no mirth in the man's voice, and his face was void of any emotion – unless you counted exhaustion.

"Detective Sandoval is with the Dallas PD, and is investigating a murder that happened two nights ago." He broke off as his wife came in, manila folder in hand.

Alex handed it off to Walker. "I had these faxed over this morning. Gail Roderick was actually Kristin Deville, an agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. She went undercover ten months ago. The file on her investigation, though, and anyone connected with it, is too classified for me to get my hands on it."

"Nice to have a name," Sandoval muttered. "Thanks, Alex."

The blonde woman forced a smile. "No problem. I'm due in court in half an hour," she said, glancing at her watch, "but give me a call if you need anything." She rested a hand lightly on the detective's shoulder, and then took her leave.

"What's going on, Walker?"

Instead of the Ranger responding, Sandoval did. "Roderick was murdered two nights ago. She was working with a friend of mine, who, for whatever reason, can't tell me what he was working on with her."

"Where do we come in?" Gage asked slowly. He seemed to be as lost as Sydney felt herself.

"You two are going to try to find out anything you can about Gail Roderick." Walker opened the file, drawing out a black and white photo, and handed it to them. "Trent only ever knew her by her cover name, so chances are that's the only name she's used for the better part of the last year."

"Trent?" she asked. The name was familiar, somewhere in the back of her mind, though she couldn't place it.

"Trent Malloy," Sandoval replied. He handed out folders, one to Trivette and one to her and Gage. "This has everything I know about the case, and it includes Trent's file, except his juvenile record, which is sealed." Taking the proffered papers, Sydney filed that little tidbit away in the back of her mind for future reference.

"Where should we start?" she asked. "Any place in particular?"

"Carlos?" Walker asked, glancing toward the detective.

"Ah, I've got people checking things out down by Route 45. Her car – leased under the cover name in Oklahoma – was found by the bus station down there. When nobody touched it for a day and a half the manager called it in. I figured we'd have a better chance of picking up information down there; she was probably only ever near where she was killed when she was meeting up with Trent. But so far, we haven't turned up anything, so Center Street's probably your best bet."

"Got it."

"Give me a call in a couple hours and let me know if you turn up anything."

"Will do." Sydney smacked Gage in the chest with the folder, letting him take it from her hand. "C'mon, pardner," she drawled, smirking as he rolled his eyes.

-------------------------

Trivette skimmed the file Carlos had handed him, then set it down as Gage and Sydney left. Something about the whole thing didn't sit right with him. Eyeing Walker he asked, "You figure they'll stop in and talk to Trent?"

"I'm counting on it."

Carlos gave the Ranger a curious look. "Why?"

"I want to know how he handles being questioned by someone he doesn't know. I just want to see if he toes the same line with them as with you, and what impression of him Gage and Sydney walk away with."

"Walker, you don't think he really did it, do you?" Jimmy asked slowly. He hadn't known Malloy nearly as long as Walker had, but even he was positive that the man didn't have it in him to kill in cold blood. Sometimes, it was hard to believe he was even capable of hurting another person, he was such a damn goody-two-shoes – and then, inevitably, they'd get into some scrap that would remind him of how lethal the man could be.

"No, I don't."

When his partner didn't offer to elaborate, Trivette didn't push it, and instead redirected the conversation. "While they're out there, what are we going to do?"

"I'm going to call in a favor or two and try to find out exactly what Deville was doing out here. If we can go to Trent with information already, maybe he'll talk."

"I don't like going behind his back, Walker," Carlos said softly.

"He's not leaving you much choice," Trivette countered. "He has to know that you believe he's innocent, and that you aren't going to let him take the fall for something he didn't do. He _knows_ you're going to look into it. It'd be in everyone's best interests if he'd just cooperate."

Carlos turned to face him. "He's been working on this case for seven months. He's been dating this woman. He never breathed a word to anybody; his mother had no clue, and I sure as hell didn't know anything about it. Whatever's going on, he's not hiding this to be difficult. He's got a reason for it."

"So you'd rather let him go to prison for this – or be executed – than go behind his back to figure out what really happened?"

Apparently, that was just enough to push Sandoval over the edge. "Y'know, I have my boss breathing down my neck saying I'm not doing enough to nail him. I don't need _you_ lecturing me that I'm not doing enough to clear him. I said that I don't _like_ going behind his back, not that I'm not going to do it." Jimmy watched him tighten and then release his fists. "I'm just worried that someone's going to end up getting hurt."

Silence overtook the three men until Walker broke it. "Trivette, I want you to run a check. Find out how many professional hitters or enforcers meet the description Carlos gave us. Once you have a list, run down their last known locations and affiliations."

"Give me a call if you find anything," Carlos said, starting toward the door. "I gotta get back and see how long I can hold off getting an arrest warrant."

Jimmy watched him go, then turned back to his partner, who had the file Alex had given him open in his hands and was staring at it intently. "You see something?"

"Maybe." He didn't move a muscle.

Trivette waited for a moment, then tried again. "You want to tell me what it is?"

"Maybe." His eyes stayed locked on the folder.

Third time was the charm, right? "Now?"

"No."

Scowling at him, Trivette tossed his hat on his desk and went in search of coffee. The man could be absolutely infuriating sometimes

-------------------------

Gage flipped through the file Sydney had assaulted him with as they got into her car, and let out a low whistle. "No wonder no one thinks he did it; this guy's a regular boy scout."

As she started the car, Syd looked over at him. "How so?"

He waited until they'd pulled out into traffic to reply. "Reverend's kid, third-degree black belt, was an Army Ranger – hand-to-hand combat instructor." At that, Gage glanced at his partner out of the corner of his eye, seeing a smile play over her lips. She was a sucker for all that Jackie Chan stuff, much to his detriment. "Received a hardship discharge after his dad died, so he could help his mother take care of her other three kids. Now he owns a karate academy – on Center Street, not far it doesn't look like, from where the woman was murdered – and works as a private investigator."

"What sort of cases?" Sydney asked, flipping on the turn signal.

"Minor stuff – cheating husbands, that sort of the thing."

"What would ATF want with a two-bit PI?"

Gage shrugged. "Doesn't make much sense. Though, he _has_ helped out the Dallas PD and the Rangers before – helped stop a serial killer targeting cops, a Sadist, white supremacist group…" he trailed off, brow furrowing. "Here's something interesting."

"What?" The car drew to a stop at a red light and his partner glanced over at him.

"He won't carry a gun."

"That is… interesting." She frowned as they started forward again through the intersection. "It say why?"

He turned another couple pages. "Some accident when he was a kid; doesn't give any details. Wonder if it's got anything to do with his juvenile file."

"You caught that too, huh?"

"Yeah." He frowned, running a finger down the sheet he was reading to keep his place as the car bounced over a road that was still under construction. "He was trained by Walker, part of that Kick Drugs program he does."

"There's where the juvenile record comes in." They turned another corner and Sydney parked along the curb, just before the still-taped-off crime scene. "He match the physical?"

"Yeah."

His partner shook her head. "Y'know, he sure sounds like the guy."

"Yeah." Gage climbed out of the car as Sydney turned killed the engine.

She joined him on the sidewalk and took the folder from him, taking a few minutes to review the material he'd not gone over in the car before tossing it onto the seat and closing the door. "What do you say we pay this Malloy a visit if his place is open?"

Gage rolled his eyes even as he nodded. "You just want to check out his dojo." He smirked as Sydney choked, then clapped her on the back when she started coughing. "You okay there?"

"You—"

He gave her an innocent look. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Cooke." She gave him a glare that could freeze the sun and started across the street.

"You coming?"

"Right behind you."

They stopped about a block past the crime scene, in front of a door emblazoned with 'Thunder Karate.' Reaching for the door, Gage held it open as his partner preceded him into the building. The place was almost silent, and they walked down a small hallway toward the main room. The floor was covered in blue mats, and occupied by a single man in a karate uniform, the name 'Malloy' in black lettering across his back.

"Mr. Malloy?" Sydney asked. "Trent Malloy?"

He turned to face them. "Yes, what can I—" Then he stopped short, probably having seen their Ranger stars. "Come to arrest me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow but looking surprisingly calm.

Sydney shook her head. "That's not why we're here." She stepped forward and held out a hand. "Sydney Cooke. My partner, Gage."

He shook both their hands, his grip solid and sure. He didn't look or act like a man with a murder charge hanging over his head. Of course, appearances could be deceiving. "You Walker's people?"

Gage nodded slowly, trying to decide how much they ought to say about what they were doing. Sandoval had said that Malloy wouldn't tell him what he knew. The question then was whether, if he knew what Sandoval and Walker were up to, he'd try to stop them. There was no doubt in his mind, though, that their boss had planned on them talking to the man, though. If he hadn't, he'd have told them expressly to leave him alone. Best to feel him out a little first.

His partner apparently was thinking along the same lines. "Do you recognize the name Kristin Deville?"

Malloy shook his head, face blank, but not in a way that looked forced. "Should I?"

"Maybe. Probably not. That was Gail Roderick's real name."

The blond started. "How do you know that?"

"Someone… has connections," Gage said vaguely. Walker might trust this guy, but they didn't know him from Adam, so he didn't feel like taking chances.

"Walker or Alex?"

Gage didn't respond, changing the subject slightly instead. "We know she worked for ATF, too." That one he didn't seem too surprised at. "That who you were working for?"

There was a flash of resignation in the martial artist's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by resolve. "I told Carlos – Detective Sandoval – _twice_ that I couldn't tell him anything more than I already had."

Before Gage could reply, Sydney had stepped forward. "Look. You don't know us, and we don't know you. But we all know Walker, and he won't leave this alone until he finds out what's really going on."

"I know."

Before either of them could reply, they heard the front door open and, turning, saw a young man who very much resembled Malloy coming toward them, gym bag in hand. "Trent?" the kid asked.

"Tommy, meet Ranger Cooke and Ranger Gage. Rangers, my brother Tommy. They're friends of Walker's, and they were just leaving." Any other time or place, a comment like that would have gotten under Gage's skin. But something about his tone kept it polite and it didn't come across as an order or a threat. The man just seemed… tired, and the boy looked uncomfortable.

He forced a smile. "We'll be in the neighborhood." He saw Sydney nod at the boy as they headed for the door.

Once outside and halfway back to the car, Syd stopped and turned to face him. "What do you think?"

"I don't know. I don't think he did, but I think he's scared of something."

"Yeah, but what?" She shook her head. "I know something, though."

"Hmm?"

"I think Detective Sandoval overlooked a second suspect."

Gage frowned, then his eyes widened. "What, the kid? Are you serious?" She couldn't be.

"Yes. Everything they have against Malloy is circumstantial, and almost all of it applies to the young Mr. Malloy in there too."

"He has no motive, and you don't know if he's trained enough."

"He has some training; I can tell by the way he carries himself. And with a brother who owns a dojo? I'd bet money he's a black belt. And as for motive – neither does Trent. They were arguing over something he thought was too dangerous for her. There's no motive there."

He frowned, unable to deny her logic. "Maybe that's what he's afraid of." Then, "He's Trent now, is he?"

Sydney closed her eyes for a second, looking pained, then opened them and smacked him in the back of the head all in the same moment. "There are two of them. It makes sense to use first names."

He thought about that for a second. "Oh. Yeah." He rubbed his head where her palm had connected. "That hurt."

"You're such a wimp," she muttered, her voice dripping in mock disgust. She shook her head and started walking again. "Come on. I want to at least hit a few places before lunchtime."

-------------------------

"Trent?" He started at his brother's voice. "You okay?"

After a very long silence, during which Tommy slowly inched closer to him, he nodded. "Yeah. Just need to let off some steam."

The younger man's eyes danced. "I've got a little free time."

Trent laughed. "You're asking for trouble."

"What, from you, old man?" He picked up the bag he'd set down. "You better warm up while I change. Wouldn't want those old joints to lock up on you."

Trent grabbed his brother, pulling him into a hug – then, swiftly, flipped him, pinning him to the ground. "I don't think I have too much to worry about."

He let Tommy roll away from him and rose onto his knees as the boy stood. "Suit yourself, old man."

"Old man," Trent muttered, rising and trying not to wince at the slight twinge in his back. "I can't wait until you hit thirty!" he called after his brother.

"Let's try twenty, first?" he heard a muffled shout, followed by the kid's laughter, a welcome reprise from the strain of the last couple days.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews, guys :) Inspires me to keep writing ;)

**Chapter 4**

"Gun running."

Trivette frowned, glancing away from his computer monitor toward his partner. "Uh, drug smuggling."

Walker blinked. "What?"

"I thought we were just naming off random major crimes," he muttered sarcastically. "I thought that was a pretty good one. I mean, yeah, it's not gun running, but…" he trailed off. The older man was looking at him as if he'd grown another head. "What are you talking about?"

"That's what they were investigating. Gun running."

"Oh, that's rich."

"Yeah." Walker rested a hand on the phone. "Doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"Why would ATF bring in a guy to investigate gun runners – who won't carry a gun?"

"Maybe they figured he was a safe bet, someone who wouldn't turn, and who'd want to see the organization brought down?" his partner suggested, but the expression on his face made it clear he didn't believe it, so Jimmy had no qualms about calling him on it.

"Yeah, sure." He shook his head. "I don't think so. Something smells rotten about this whole thing."

Walker nodded. "What bothers me the most is that Carlos wrote in his report that Trent said there were two deaths already connected to this, not counting Deville. ATF has no record of any agents killed in or around the Metroplex within the last two years – not even during the episode with the Chairman."

"Maybe it's a bigger network?"

"If that was it, I doubt he'd think that his cover being blown and us finding out what was going on would end up getting other agents killed. Most of these cells operate independently, for their own safety – one gets taken down, the others are left untouched, so business keeps running smoothly."

"You think Trent lied?"

"I think he was lied _to_."

"By who? Deville? The Feds?"

"Both?" Walker suggested.

It was all starting to piece together. "You think something went down, and Trent's the fall guy."

"Yeah, I do."

"You think was the plan from the beginning?"

"Maybe."

"And the Feds are on their way out here to put the nail in the coffin."

"Yeah." Walker shook his head. "You come up with anything?"

"Two guys who fit the physical description and have a martial arts background. And one of them _always_ likes to get up close and personal with his victims – blow to the head, throat, or nose, usually."

"Got a name?"

He handed a printout to his partner. "Take your pick."

Scanning it, he asked, "Affiliation?"

"Melendez, in San Antonio."

"What was his last known location?"

Glancing back over his notes even though he really didn't need to he answered, "Nothing known for sure, but he's wanted in connection with a murder in Fort Worth – among other things." Trivette shook his head. "Walker, I don't see the government hiring this guy to come after anybody. I mean, even as pros go, he's bad."

"You'd be surprised."

Frowning, he pointed out, "Hey, I've tangled with these guys too, remember?"

His partner didn't respond directly, saying instead, "Call Sydney and Gage. See if they've found out anything, and tell them to head to my place and we'll meet them there. I'm going to call Carlos, and then Trent."

-------------------------

Sydney walked into the bar, coughing before the door had even closed behind her at the thick veil of smoke filling the entrance way. Holding her breath until they made it past the chain-smoking bikers sitting at the table by the door, she walked up to the bar, unfolding the picture of Kristin Deville. "Mind if I ask you a couple questions?" she said to the bartender.

The man didn't look up, instead continuing to dry glasses. "Yes."

"Look," she said, "we're not looking to get anyone in any trouble. A woman was murdered the other night, and no one around knows anything about her. We're just trying to find out a few things; we want to notify her family, but to do that, we need to find her family." It wasn't entirely the truth, nor was it the approach she was accustomed to taking in this sort of situation, but sometimes a lie and charm worked better than brute force.

Sometimes.

"Sorry, haven't seen her." It would have been a polite response – had the man actually looked at the photo.

Gage leaned across the bar and Sydney stepped back to allow him space. "We didn't come here looking to arrest anyone, but it can be arranged." She watched her partner falter, though, when a chair pushed back behind them.

"Cool down, cowboy," a woman's voice said suddenly, and Syd turned to face the newcomer, watching out of the corner of her eye as the biker who'd stood slowly sat back down. "Garrett here just likes to see how long it takes for cops to get all up in his face. I think you broke the record." Sydney hid a smile as Gage looked between them, open-mouthed. "Cara Sanson."

Sanson took the picture from her and studied it for a moment. "I've seen her before. Couple nights ago, came in here about… twenty after ten."

"A couple nights ago," Gage repeated. "So… Monday? Or Tuesday?"

"Hmm. Well, I guess… it'd have to be Tuesday, because I remember thinkin' she was a darin' little thing, walkin' alone into a bar full up o' drunk bikers." One of the men they'd passed coming in growled something, and Cara glanced past Sydney. "Sit on it, Pete." It was Gage's turn to stifle a laugh.

She shifted her attention back to them. "Anyway, she wasn't alone very long. She comes in, sits down, and starts playin' with the coaster and lookin' around. Then this guy comes in, goes straight over to her, takes her by her arm, and pulls her up an' outta the bar. Neither of 'em looked too happy."

"What did this guy look like?"

"Well, I couldn't see his face, but… blond hair, about your height," she said, turning to Gage. "Sorta small guy."

"Small… like, thin?" Sydney asked.

"Yeah."

Gage moved next to her, producing the picture of Trent Malloy from the file Sandoval had given them. "He look like this?"

Cara shrugged. "Could've. Like I said, I couldn't see his face. But that could be him."

"Thanks."

As they left the bar, Sydney turned to her partner. "What do you think?"

"I think we should find out what time Malloy left the dojo, and where he went."

"And where Deville and her escort went after they left this place. There's still a good forty minutes or so unaccounted for." Sydney frowned, Cara's words playing through her mind as they headed for her car. "Y'know, I wouldn't go into that place alone at night, even armed. It's just asking for trouble."

"And you never do that," Gage jibed at her.

Rolling her eyes, she put the key into the ignition. "I wonder if she was meeting someone."

"Other than the mystery blond?"

"Yeah." Before she could say anymore, her partner's cell phone rang.

"Gage." He was quiet for a second. "Yeah, we got something; don't know how much good it'll do… Walker's? About… half an hour… meet you there." Pocketing the phone, he turned to her. "That was Trivette. Walker wants everyone – Sandoval and Malloy too – at his place."

-------------------------

Trent looked up as Alex returned, the two Rangers he'd met that morning in tow. They'd seemed nice enough, but just the same he wasn't thrilled to see them again so soon. But, from the expressions on their faces, the feeling was mutual. Manners won out, and he nodded, forcing a smile as they sat down.

"I assume you've all met?" The look on Walker's face suggests clearly that he fully intended them to have. Trent only nodded, feeling more uncomfortable in his mentor's presence than he ever had before.

"I'm going to guess you've got something, Walker?" Unwilling though he was to meet his friend's eyes, Trent couldn't miss the exhaustion in Carlos's tone. He wondered if he'd slept at all the night before; he himself certainly hadn't. Tommy had come upstairs to scold him for keeping him awake with his pacing.

"Yeah, we got something; a lot of questions, mostly," Trivette muttered.

"Well, _we_ came up with a possible lead," Cooke said. "But I don't know how helpful it's going to be." Trent didn't flinch under her direct gaze.

Trivette sat down backward on one of the kitchen chairs Walker had brought into the living room. "What did you two find out?"

"The night she died, Deville went into Tulio's – it's a bar around the corner from where she was killed, a pretty rough place if the patrons are anything to go by."

"Bunch of pussycats," Gage muttered, and Cooke scoffed at her partner.

"For a 'bunch of pussycats,' they sure scared you."

The man rolled his eyes. "I wasn't scared."

She matched his expression. "Sure. Anyway, she was in the bar for about five minutes when a man who fits the killer's description came in, grabbed her, and pulled her out of the bar." She shrugged. "It's not much, but it's strange."

"Yeah, Syd says she'd be afraid to go in there alone that late and night," Gage said, earning him a very dark glare from Cooke.

"You think she was meeting somebody?"

The woman nodded. "Yeah. No real way to find out who though."

"What time did you leave the dojo that night, Trent?"

He blinked, surprised to be addressed, and shrugged. "I don't know; about half an hour, maybe a little more, after Gail… Kristin did." Oddly, at that moment it occurred to him to wonder why it had taken her death for him to learn her real name. He'd never even asked.

"And what did you do then?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "Drove around for a while, and then headed home. I got back… around 11:30, quarter to 12." He forced a smile to his lips and glanced toward Carlos. "You never asked me for my alibi."

His friend looked frazzled. "I…" He raised a hand and waved dismissively. "Whatever." He glanced toward Walker. "Trivette said you guys came up with something?"

Trent raised his head, but his old teacher's eyes were boring into him so hard he had to look away, though Walker's voice forced him to face him again. "You want to tell them or do you want me to?"

He shrugged, then sighed. Why had he even bothered to fight it? "We were investigating a group that's part of a gun running organization that spans the whole country. It's a network, a lot of independent cells. They supply gangs, have affiliations with organized crime, and some are connected with merc outfits in other countries – and here in the US."

"Ironic," Carlos muttered, and Trent glanced his way.

"What?"

"You… investigating gun runners. It's ironic."

Trent shrugged again, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the subject, and more uncomfortable with the memory of carrying a gun for seven months. He'd managed to avoid ever firing it, however, as Kristin had made a big deal out of his martial arts skills. "Or you could say I had a vested interest in what I was doing." The words came out more tersely than he'd intended. Carlos looked a little stung.

Walker, though, turned the subject back to the case. "Trent, you told Carlos that you wouldn't tell him anything about what you were doing because it would endanger people – and that two people had died already."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"Who were they?"

He shook his head. "They were killed before I got into it, even before Kristin did. That was why they needed someone new."

Walker leaned forward. "Trent, I called in a couple favors; ATF records indicate none of their agents were killed in this area in the last two years."

"Sounds like she lied to you, man," Trivette said quietly, clearly trying to avoid the appearance that they were accusing him of anything.

"No." The tenor of his voice caught even him by surprise. "I've worked with her for seven months; I know her… knew her. I would know if she'd lied to me."

It was Carlos who replied first, after a weighty silence. "Trent, no offense, but you're about the most naïve man who ever lived. She's a fed; this is what they do."

Trent stood, angry with his friend not for the first time. "Not her."

-------------------------

Carlos watched Trent turn away from them, not quite quickly enough to hide the tears that were starting to spill over. "Excuse me," he mumbled, already halfway across the room. Seconds later, he was out the door.

Cordell rose, but Carlos stopped him. "Let me. I… came down kind of hard on him when I dragged him in for questioning. Had someone watching me, and I couldn't afford to come off soft. I should've talked to him after."

It was more information than he really needed to give, but he was too distracted by his friend's distress to care at the moment. Carlos left the others and headed for the door, finding Trent sitting on the steps outside, leaning forward, head in his hands. "You all right?" he asked quietly, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Yeah. Just kinda hit me all at once." Pain was evident in his voice, but even more obvious was how hard he was trying to hide it. That in itself stung; Trent was notoriously closed-mouthed about his emotions, but rarely would he refuse to talk to Carlos.

"Yeah." There wasn't much else he could say.

"I didn't kill her, Carlos. I loved her." His voice pleaded for understanding, or at least something resembling support.

The detective walked down the stairs, then lowered himself to sit beside his friend. "I know; we're gonna find out who did this." He was surprised by the vehemence in his words; he really did believe them.

Trent, however, was apparently not so certain. "For the first time, Carlos, I'm not real sure I believe you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

When Sandoval returned without Malloy, Sydney took the opportunity to mention what she'd avoided saying earlier. "There's another possible suspect, Walker," she said softly, not wanting the blond outside to overhear. All eyes on her, she continued. "At the karate studio, Malloy's brother came in just as we were leaving." She spoke slowly, and was a little annoyed at the hesitancy in her voice.

She'd not expected a good reaction to her words, but she'd definitely been unprepared for Sandoval to jump up the moment after he'd sat down. "No way in hell are you accusing Tommy of murder. Accusing Trent is bad enough. Tommy? No!"

"Easy, Carlos." Walker stood and put a hand on the agitated detective's shoulder. "Sydney doesn't know Trent, or his family. She's giving a professional, unbiased opinion." He paused. "And she's right. Everything we have that points to Trent could also indicate Tommy."

"He would have no reason to kill her!" Carlos exclaimed. "And he's less capable of hurting someone than Trent is, if that's even possible!"

"You know," Gage said, "there was a reason we waited until Malloy wasn't in here to say anything. But I'm pretty sure they could hear _you_ down at Ranger Headquarters."

Sandoval shot him a look and Sydney stood and moved between them, lest anything escalate. "Detective, I'm sorry if you don't like what I have to say, but if you're getting this worked up over this case, then maybe you shouldn't be on it." She kept her voice deliberately calm, not wanting him to think she was trying to push him around. That wasn't her intention and if he perceived it that way, it wouldn't do them any good.

The truth was that she wanted to agree with Walker, Trivette, and Carlos. Earlier, she'd gotten the distinct impression that Malloy had been hiding something, but that had more or less dissipated after he'd opened up this afternoon. He seemed like a nice guy, and Walker was the best judge of character she'd met in a very long time.

"She may have a point, Carlos," Trivette said slowly. "You might be too close to this case."

"I don't care," Sandoval replied, and it occurred to Sydney why he and Walker seemed to work well together. The man was almost as stubborn as her boss.

"You're not going to have much choice in a day or two," Walker said slowly, drawing all eyes toward him. "ATF is sending some of its people out to look into this; they're not going to be keen on interference from local law enforcement to begin with, and especially not from the prime suspect's best friend."

The man's shoulders fell. "The feds are gonna bury him, Walker."

"I think so too. But I have no intention of letting them." He paused. "Cooperate with them as much as you can. You're going to have to pick your battles."

"Easier said than done," the detective groused. "You wouldn't stand by and let them take over if it was your case."

"No, but the Rangers have a little more pull than the Dallas PD," Gage pointed out, and Sydney half expected Sandoval to jump on him for that, but he only nodded.

"Besides," Walker added, "No one ever said it wasn't my case."

At that, Alex spoke for the first time all night. "Technically, the Rangers will share jurisdiction in this with ATF and whoever else they bring in – probably the FBI, if anyone. Right before you all arrived, I got a phone call informing me that I'm the lucky one who gets to be the liaison between the District Attorney's office and federal law enforcement."

"Which means that if and when they decide Trent's guilty, you get to prosecute." Sandoval sighed, and finally sat back down.

Alex nodded slowly. "If it gets to that, I'll try to plead conflict of interest; I've known Trent a long time." She hesitated. "I don't know if that'll work, though; it will depend on the agents they send out, most likely."

"The agents who sends?"

-------------------------

Trent hung in the doorway, leaning against the wall as an uncomfortable silence descended over the room. Either they'd all forgotten he was there, or… no, they'd probably all forgotten about him.

When no one answered, he repeated himself, and Alex finally replied, her voice soft and strained, "ATF is sending agents to look into Kristin's death themselves. Walker will be working with them, and I'll most likely be prosecuting."

There was so much in her words that made him feel ill, but he forced himself to focus on the least disconcerting piece of information. "Walker?" He glanced first toward the Ranger, and then shifted his gaze toward his best friend. "What about Carlos?"

"I'm going to try to stay involved as long as I can," the detective answered, "but Walker doesn't think ATF's going to want DPD involved any more than absolutely necessary. He's probably right."

Of course he was. Trent wasn't sure why he was even surprised by this turn of events. He ought to have expected it, really. "It's all right, Carlos. Don't get yourself fired over it."

"I won't get _fired_," his friend replied, and something about his tone made Trent wonder if there was something he wasn't saying, though he doubted now was the time to inquire. Instead, he changed the subject.

"What else did you talk about?" This time, in addition to silence, he was met with carefully blank expressions. "I heard Carlos yelling about someone else having no reason to kill Kristin," he said quietly. He didn't miss his friend's pointed glare at the two new Rangers, or their glances at each other. "Who were you talking about?"

Whatever was going on, they all seemed to have a distinct interest in _not_ telling him, until finally Cooke looked up and met his eyes. "Your brother."

Trent started. He'd had no idea who else they might have suspected, but Tommy had certainly not crossed his mind – though, perhaps, he should have. He held the Ranger's gaze for a moment longer before shifting his attention to her boss. "Walker, keep on her on the investigation, huh?"

It was impossible to miss the surprised look on the woman's face, even watching her out of the corner of his eye. Walker, by contrast, merely raised an eyebrow and gave him a questioning look.

"She's got more guts than the rest of you put together." Cooke looked relieved, but her partner gave him a look that could have frozen the Gulf of Mexico. Trent forced a smile to his lips. "But you can rest assured that Tommy knew nothing about her, and has an airtight alibi. He was babysitting the twins that night while my mother was helping out a friend of hers whose daughter has chicken pox. He went to bed about ten minutes before I got home, and I know he was home all night because he finally got my sister to sleep about ten minutes before that."

At his words, Carlos shot a decidedly smug look toward Cooke, and Trent wanted to thank him for his support, but that wasn't a conversation he wanted to have in front of all these people.

"There _is_ another suspect, though," Trivette finally spoke up. "A hitter out of San Antonio, wanted in Fort Worth, works for Alejandro Melendez. He fits the description, has the skills, and hand-to-hand is his preferred method for dispatching with his targets."

"Where is he now?" Trent kept his voice low, and the look on Carlos's face when he spoke said clearly that he thought he should be more enthused about the prospect of being cleared.

"We don't know. His last known location was San Antonio, three hours before the murder he's wanted for. I put in a few calls, but haven't heard back yet."

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" Carlos grumbled.

"Why do you think we're meeting here?" Walker asked, his voice matter-of-fact and emotionless.

Carlos didn't seem to have an answer, but he didn't really need one, as his pager sounded at that instant. He pulled it off his belt and glanced down, then back up, his face impassive. "I've got to get back; keep me posted?" When Walker nodded, the detective glanced toward Trent. "You coming?"

"Yeah." Despite that he knew his friends were doing their best, and the fact that he actually liked and respected the two newer Rangers notwithstanding, he really had no desire to spend any more time than necessary here discussing his potential guilt.

-------------------------

By the time he reached his desk, Carlos had been told five times by four different people that the Captain wanted to see him – _now_. All wore knowing, sympathetic looks that did nothing to help his mood or his outlook on the current situation.

The suits standing in his boss's office did, if possible, even less. Really, they made it worse. "Carlos, Agents Shauna MacPherson and Tony Galiano, from ATF. They're here to look into Kristin Deville's murder." He faced the newcomers. "Detective Carlos Sandoval; he's been—"

"Investigating the murder. Yes, we know." Well, good, Carlos disliked this Galiano guy already. They were off to a great start. "Thank you for your services, detective, but they are no longer needed."

Carlos had to fight not to laugh out loud. _No one_ dismissed him like that, no matter what the case, and there was no way he was handing Trent's life over to these guys that easy. "Just like that, huh?" He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"You have no say in the matter, detective."

He wasn't too fond of MacPherson, either. He ignored her and looked toward Burnett. "I just came from talking to Cordell Walker. He and Alex Cahill have been handed this case. You can try to take me off, but Walker won't."

"Walker—"

MacPherson interrupted what would probably have been a stinging rebuke. "Pardon me, but who is this Walker?"

"Cordell Walker is a Texas Ranger who, while he outranks me, does _not_ have the authority to direct me in how I utilize my personnel." Burnett looked pointedly at Carlos, but he refused to back down.

"You _can't_ take me off this case; I've done my job. I filed my report, with information that only _I_ knew, that no one would have found out otherwise. I went to Walker myself, and I brought the _only_ suspect in for questioning – myself."

"You're too close to it, Carlos. The prime suspect is your best friend; you've known the man for twenty years!"

"I'm well aware of my history with Trent Malloy," Carlos snapped. "But I'm doing my job, and I'm not going to let him get railroaded just because the federal government wants everything wrapped up nice and pretty with a bow on top!"

"We are not 'railroading' anyone," Galiano retorted, keeping his voice impressively level. "We want justice done. Your friend murdered our agent, and he will _not_ get away with it."

"Will you _listen_ to them?" Carlos fixed a glare on the Captain. "Apparently, there's already been a trial I didn't know about."

Finally, Burnett spoke in his defense. "Cool down, everyone. This murder happened in my jurisdiction, federal agent or not, and I will continue to have a say in how this investigation will be conducted. Now, you two may or may not be familiar with the situation here, but I am, and Trent Malloy is an upstanding citizen who has assisted the police, the Texas Rangers – and, it would seem, your own organization – many times. He is not going to be hung out to dry on my watch."

Silently, Carlos thanked him, then folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorjamb. "Glad we agree."

"Can it, Sandoval," the Captain growled. "I like Malloy, but they have a valid argument here. You're too close to the case."

"I'm not giving it up!"

"You'll do as I tell you."

_When did you become my mother?_ "Fine. But you may as well keep me informed, because Walker will if you don't."

"That can be arranged." Burnett gave a pointed look in the agents' direction. Neither seemed happy, but then MacPherson brightened somewhat.

"Gladly. And we'll start by _informing_ you that by the end of the day Mr. Malloy will be in police custody."

"Alex Cahill won't get you a warrant on this; you have no motive."

"We already have a warrant." Galiano wore a smug grin that only widened when Carlos's jaw dropped.

There was no way Alex would have gotten them a warrant and not told him. "How?"

"Through legal channels, I assure you," the man responded sarcastically. Somehow – Carlos couldn't imagine why – his words did little to reassure him.

He glared at his boss, but Burnett looked stunned himself. "It's out of my hands, Sandoval," he said, sighing, forestalling anything Carlos might have said.

"Not completely." Though, mostly. "Let me go."

"What?"

"Let me go with them, to bring in Trent."

"No." The vehemence in MacPherson's voice caught Carlos off guard, though Burnett summarily ignored her.

"Why?"

"Because if I go, I know no one will get hurt."

"He has nothing to worry about if he cooperates with us," Galiano interrupted.

Carlos stared him straight in the eye. "Yeah, right. Meanwhile, you guys get trigger happy and his eleven-year-old sister'll end up getting killed because she can't understand why her big brother's being hauled out of their house in handcuffs." He could almost see it happen in his head; that would send Trent off the deep end. "No."

"He has a point," Burnett spoke up. "Assuming Malloy is at his mother's home, there will be three younger people there, two of them children." Burnett leaned against his desk. "Sandoval will bring Malloy in. You can accompany him, and take a patrol car as well, but he leads on this."

"You don't have the authority—"

"If you have a problem with that, I'll call the Texas Rangers myself and you can talk this out with Cordell Walker. I'm sure that, after that experience, you'll find me to be quite cooperative in comparison."

Carlos hid a smile behind his hand, then straightened up. "I'm ready whenever you are." It was, really, a bald-faced lie; he was by no means prepared to arrest his best friend for murder. But he was even _less_ willing to stand by and watch the Feds do it. Something told him that if he did, things would only end one way.

"Right." If looks could kill, Carlos would have been dead where he stood.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Carlos pulled into the Malloys' driveway and killed the engine, trying to ignore the ATF agents' unmarked car and the cruiser that drew up behind his own vehicle. He climbed out of the car and shut the door slowly, hesitating, and looked toward the house.

Hearing doors close behind him, he glanced over his shoulder and started up the walk. Before he reached the front door, it opened and he saw Tommy standing there, the twins on either side of him. "Carlos…?"

The screen door opened and Tyler started out, only to have his older brother catch his arm as Carlos shook his head. "Take them inside, Tommy."

A moment later, Trent appeared behind them, and Carlos heard him say the same. However, the kids would have none of it. Even as Tommy moved back and toward the stairs, Tandy pulled away and glued herself to Trent's side. "No," she said stubbornly, reminding Carlos for a moment just how stubborn the entire Malloy clan could be.

It also reminded him of how stubborn the agents waiting outside could be. He glanced over his shoulder and saw MacPherson's hand hovering over her sidearm. Galiano's was in his hand, held against his thigh. Carlos had considered leaving his own weapon in the car – there was no way he could ever bring himself to fire against Trent, especially not knowing he was unarmed and with the kids right there. But he'd decided it might be necessary, if one of the agents got antsy. He shot them both a fierce look and, while MacPherson relaxed, Galiano ignored him.

"Trent—"

His friend turned away for just a moment, pushing Tandy back toward Tommy. "Go on, kiddo."

"Trent, what's going on?" Tommy held the girl against him, but didn't budge.

The martial arts instructor didn't respond, just turned back and looked at Carlos expectantly. Taking a slow, deep breath, he held up the papers in his hand. "I have a warrant for your arrest for the murder of federal agent Kristin Deville." He took a step forward, tucking the paperwork under his arm, and produced a pair of handcuffs. They were hardly necessary, but he wanted this to be as by-the-book as possible, for all their sakes.

Trent turned slightly, putting his hands behind his back without having to be told to, and Carlos saw him flinch as Tandy started crying, then broke away from Tommy and ran to him, throwing her arms around his waist.

No sooner had Carlos snapped the cuffs on than he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and spun around, hand dropped to his gun. "Hold—"

Then everything went to hell in little more than a heartbeat. Galiano's hand wavered and Tommy stepped forward to pull his little sister back. Then the muzzle on the agent's gun flashed, the shot somehow more deafening than any Carlos could ever remember hearing before. Tommy froze where he was, then took a sudden step back, his hand moving toward his right shoulder as if in slow motion. He stumbled back as Trent, hands still cuffed behind him, spun toward the younger man. Tandy screamed and Tyler tried to scoot out of the way before his brother fell against him.

"It hurts to be shot," Tommy mumbled, sagging back against the wall and sliding toward the floor.

ATF agents forgotten for the moment, Carlos dropped to his knees next to the boy and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, only to feel a hand close it as he snapped it open. "Ambulance is on the way," MacPherson said, her voice soft. She knelt down in front of Tandy. "Can you show me where your mom keeps your towels?" Still crying, the girl nodded and headed back into the house.

As they went, Carlos kept his eyes on Tommy. "You're gonna be okay, kiddo," he told him softly, unable to raise his eyes to Trent's, knowing the kind of pain he'd see in his friend's face. He did, however, look over toward Tyler, hovering worriedly a few feet away. "He'll be okay."

"Hurts."

He returned his attention to the boy half-sitting, half-lying next to him. "I know, Tommy. Been there once or twice myself." He forced a smile and kept talking, unsure of how much he was really grasping. "The girls'll be all over you when you tell them you survived getting shot."

"He's got a big enough head already," Trent murmured, "without you inflating it even more."

"Do not," Tommy mumbled.

They fell silent as MacPherson and Tandy returned with a couple of towels. As the female agent knelt down next to him, Carlos unbuttoned Tommy's shirt, slipping it off his wounded shoulder. MacPherson folded one of the cloths over and handed it to him to hold against the injury. Then she held out her hand. "Keys."

He glanced at her sideways. "What?"

"Keys. To the handcuffs. I'm going to release him – temporarily." After a second or two, he handed her the keys, keeping one hand pressed firmly against Tommy's chest.

He moved aside once Trent finally knelt next to him, and allowed his friend to take over. Then he stood up, pulled MacPherson away from the Malloys, and said, "You might want to get your partner out of here now, because if I so much as _see_ him, I won't be held responsible for my actions."

"I wouldn't hold you back," she replied curtly, catching him off guard.

Any other reply was forestalled as an ambulance, lights flashing, drew into the driveway. As the paramedics guided the stretcher up to the door, Carlos put a hand on Trent's shoulder, pulling him back slightly. "Come on, man."

Slowly, Trent nodded and rose, taking a few steps back, out of the way, watching as Tommy was loaded onto the stretcher. "Oh, God," he whispered, sagging back against the door.

"He's going to be fine," Carlos said softly. Then, to his annoyance, MacPherson approached, forcing his mind back to the issue that had brought them to the Malloys' home in the first place. "I still have to bring you in." He took his handcuffs back as the two uniformed officers – where the devil had they been for the last fifteen minutes, anyway? – came up to them.

Trent ignored the newcomers. "The twins—"

"I can take them down to the hospital and wait for your mother," MacPherson offered.

Carlos shook his head. "No. He," he pointed toward her partner, "is not getting anywhere near them. No, I'll take them with me, then to the hospital." He turned to the two patrol officers. "Call Katie Malloy—"

His friend interrupted him, wrenching his eyes away from the stretcher now being put into the ambulance. "No; Carlos, please, let me. If it's anyone else, she'll panic—"

"It's all right," MacPherson said. "Let him make the call."

Just as she spoke, though, the phone inside rang and Tyler ran for it, coming back a moment later, yelling for his brother. "It's mom!"

Trent pushed past Carlos and took the cordless from his younger brother. "Mom, it's me."

Carlos moved to stand beside him, close enough that he could hear every word Mrs. Malloy said. "Trent, why does Tyler sound so upset?"

Trent was quiet for so long that Carlos started to wonder if he was even going to reply, but then he said, "I'm… being arrested." He hesitated. "One of… Tommy was shot. Just in the shoulder; he's going to be okay, but he's not really conscious right now. He's being taken to the hospital."

Few times in his life had Carlos seen Katie Malloy truly worked up, but from the sound of it, this was one of them. He couldn't understand what she said back, just rapid-fire words injected with worry for her sons. "Mom, please, calm… mom!"

Seeing Trent's own control over his emotions start to slip, Carlos reached over and took the phone from his hand, putting an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Katie, it's Carlos." He spoke quickly, before she could bury him with questions. "I'm going to bring the kids to the hospital as soon as I run Trent downtown. Tommy is going to be fine, I promise you. Now, I've got to go." Guilt plaguing him even as he did it, he hung up, vowing to himself that he'd let her tear into him to her heart's content.

The whole damn thing was, after all, his fault. It was the least he could do.

As he pulled Trent's arms behind his back and cuffed him once more, then started to guide him toward his car, he decided there was something else he could do – later. Keeping one hand on Trent's shoulder, he motioned the twins over.

Just as he closed the door after his friend was inside the car, Tyler and Tandy seemed to brighten – barely but enough to take away some of the strain he was feeling. "Can we ride in the back, Carlos?"

He glanced between them, then back to Trent. "Sure, why not?"

-------------------------

"Walker." Trivette looked up as the tone in his partner's voice changed. "When? Saint Matthew's?" Walker went quiet for a second, then picked up a pen. "You have names?" He watched him scrawl out a few notes and tear off the page. "I'll see you down there."

As the older Ranger replaced the receiver and looked up, Trivette just waited expectantly. Gage, though, who had just come into the office with Sydney, spoke up. "What was that about? Someone hurt?"

"That was Carlos Sandoval. ATF's people are in town; they went with him to take Trent in, and his younger brother was shot."

"Tommy or Tyler?" Trivette asked, pushing his chair back and standing.

"Tommy; Carlos said it's a shoulder wound, and he should be okay, but he's in rough shape. He has the younger kids with him, but he wants someone to go down to the emergency room to meet Kate."

"Walker, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I want to find out more about how Tommy Malloy was shot before I come up with anything." He stood up. "Trivette, go down to Dallas Police HQ and keep an eye on how things go with Trent's interrogation." Jimmy nodded and Walker turned to the other Rangers, holding out the sheet of paper.

"Gage, you and Sydney see what you can find out on these two. All I know right now is that Galiano's the one with the itchy trigger finger." He paused. "If you run into any walls, give Alex a call and see if she can't pull some strings."

"Got it, boss." Gage saluted, holding the single sheet up to his forehead. "We'll call you if we come up with anything."

Walker shook his head. "Meet us at CD's later; Carlos sounds pretty strung out right now. I want to get him on more neutral territory."

-------------------------

"Mom!"

Walker looked up at the exclamation, rising in tandem with Kate Malloy as her two youngest came running down the corridor toward her, a strained police detective trailing behind them. Kate knelt in front of them, taking both kids into her arms at once, then stood and gave Carlos a hug. "What happened, honey?"

"A lot," he said, voice weary. "How's Tommy?"

"They're removing the bullet now," Cordell said, shaking the younger man's hand. "He's going to be all right, Carlos."

"Sure." He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry, Kate."

"What _happened,_ Carlos?" she asked again.

"I got paged back to the station; Burnett and two ATF agents were waiting for me. They told me that I was being pulled off the case, and that they'd gotten a warrant for Trent's arrest. I don't know how; I know it wasn't Alex."

"No, it wasn't," Walker said quietly. For one, she'd have told him. For two, she wouldn't have obtained a warrant on what little information they had at the moment.

Carlos nodded, looking grateful for the validation, then continued his story. "I talked Burnett into letting me go, because I knew someone was going to get hurt." He shook his head and Walker watched his fists tighten. The Ranger stepped forward, pushing the younger man into a chair.

After several minutes, he looked up again. "I had him cuffed, Walker; he wasn't fighting or arguing… he didn't say a word. Then Tandy started crying and ran forward, and Tommy went to pull her back, and that scumbag fired… hit Tommy in the shoulder."

"It's not your fault, Carlos," Walker said, sitting down beside him. "I have Gage and Sydney looking into both of those agents."

"Thanks, Walker." The skepticism in the man's voice was obvious, and Walker knew it would take more than anything he could say to assuage the guilt he was suffering from.

"Mom."

"Not now, Tyler," Kate said, putting her hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Mom, it really _wasn't_ Carlos's fault. He even yelled at the man not to shoot – or to stop, or something – and he did it anyway."

Walker glanced sideways at Carlos, who had raised his head to watch Trent's younger siblings.

"It's true, Mom," Tandy said softly. "It's my fault."

"No!" Carlos slid off the chair to kneel in front of the girl. "Tandy, it is _not_ your fault, not at all."

"If I hadn't'a—"

The detective shook his head. "No. It's not your fault. It's just that agent, the one who shot Tommy. It's only his fault."

"Then I guess it's not your fault either, huh, Carlos?" Walker pointed out, earning himself a grudging glare from the younger man.

"It isn't, Carlos." Kate reached a hand out and rested it on his shoulder, then slid it down his arm to take his hand. "It's just one terrible series of events, and between you all, you're going to find out what's really going on." She gave him a smile. "How's Trent?"

"Angry. When I left he was stonewalling Galiano, doing his best to piss him off." Carlos cracked a smile and shook his head. "It was working, too."

"I bet."

They were interrupted by a doctor's approach. "Mrs. Malloy?"

Kate released Carlos and turned to face him. "Yes."

"I'm Doctor Madero; I'm the surgeon who removed the bullet from your son's shoulder."

Out of the corner of his eye Walker saw Carlos step forward to stand next to her, and the kids slipped in between each of them to stand by their mother. "How is Tommy?"

"He's going to be just fine. He'll be unconscious for another couple of hours, and when he wakes up he'll be in a lot of pain, but eventually he'll be as good as new. We're going to keep him on morphine for another day or so, and then I'll prescribe him something for the pain. Is there anything he's allergic to?"

Kate shook her head. "Not that I know of." She hesitated. "Can we see him, or…?"

"Certainly; one at a time, please. I'll take you to his room now."

Trent's mother looked to Carlos and, when he shook his head, Walker did the same. "You go on. We're going to head down to CDs to meet Trivette and a couple of my people." Not that he'd mentioned it to Carlos, but he hadn't planned to give him a choice in the matter. He needed a break, from the looks of it. "We'll come by later, though, to see how you're all doing."

Kate nodded. "Thank you, Walker, Carlos." She turned to the detective and held her arms out, giving him a quick, tight, hug before taking the kids with her and following the doctor back down the hall.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Let's go over this again, Mr. Malloy."

Trent eyed Galiano warily, and shrugged. If Carlos were the one questioning him – or Trivette, for that matter, who was standing silently in a corner of the room at the moment – he'd be more interested in cooperating. But after what he'd done earlier, and the attitude he'd had for the last hour or two, Trent had absolutely no desire to make his life any easier. "Whatever you say."

"What was the extent of your relationship with Kristin Deville?"

"We were partners, and we were dating."

"What were you fighting about the night she was killed?"

"Emerson invited her to fly to California with him to meet someone – I don't know who; I don't even know if she was told. He specifically told her not to tell me anything about it. I didn't like it; I thought it was a setup. She was convinced that it would be a major step toward finding out just how extensive the network is and meeting some of the key players, and thought it was worth the risk. I didn't."

"Sandoval's report says you threatened her."

Trent raised an eyebrow. If Carlos had written that he'd threatened her, he'd have told him. Not to mention that he wouldn't have put it into the report because it simply wasn't true. "I never threatened her. What I did was tell her I could think of a few ways to stop her from doing it."

"Such as?" MacPherson asked, her tone more curious than hostile.

He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Interfere. Follow her." He dropped his gaze back down. "Call you people."

"So, killing her wasn't on your list of options?"

Really, what kind of question _was_ that? What did he expect him to say? _Oh, yeah, actually, that was my first choice?_ "No. I was worried about her safety. _Why_ would I kill her if my intention was to make sure she survived the case?"

"I can think of a couple of reasons, actually. Either she'd decided that working for Emerson and Reynolds paid better than working for us – or you did."

Even the suggestion alone made him sick to his stomach, and it must have shown in his face because he saw Trivette take a step forward, concern evident in his eyes. Slowly, he shook his head at him, and the Ranger retreated to his corner, watching closely.

When he finally found his voice, Trent forced himself to meet the man's steady gaze. "If she had switched sides on me, I'd have reported it to you, and dropped out of sight, because she'd have sent them after me. And I would die before I'd help anyone put more guns on the streets."

-------------------------

Outside the hospital, Walker headed toward his truck, stopping only when Carlos grabbed his arm. "I actually have to run back to the station; there's something I have to do."

He eyed the younger man carefully for a moment, trying to gauge from his expression just what it was that he was planning to do. Unable to come up with anything solid, he just nodded. "Remember, Carlos, that you can help Trent more by playing by the rules right now."

The detective raised an eyebrow. "Tell that to Tommy," he replied quietly, then headed off toward his own vehicle, without waiting for a response.

Walker stayed where he was for a moment, watching him drive away, then crossed the remaining distance to his pickup. Carlos was a good cop, very strong of conviction – and while that was what made him so good at his job, it also had a tendency to get him into trouble.

Somehow, he had a feeling that avoiding trouble was the last thing on the detective's mind at the moment – and that causing it was probably at the forefront.

-------------------------

Carlos threaded his way through the station, ignoring concerned inquiries and the occasional smug look from his colleagues, and walked straight into Burnett's office, closing the door behind him.

The Captain looked up at him, sympathy and concern showing despite the perpetually gruff expression he wore. "How is he?"

"Oh, he's great for having a bullet dug out of his shoulder," he replied shortly. "And his mother's ecstatic, having her _seventeen-year-old _son shot in his own _house_!"

"She has every right to be angry."

Carlos scowled. "Well, I'm glad we agree, then."

Burnett looked ready to blow his stack, and part of Carlos wished he would, giving him an excuse to let his own temper flare, but the older man just shook his head. "I'm sorry, Carlos."

"I'll pass on the apology." He waited a moment, then decided to give the Captain a chance to change his mind. "What's going to be done?"

If possible, Burnett looked even angrier. "Absolutely nothing. ATF is calling it an unavoidable accident, and ordered me to file a report, sign it off, and leave it alone." He shook his head. "My hands are tied, Sandoval."

"He shot a kid! With two more there, right next to him. There was _no_ threat; Trent was cuffed, and Tommy was trying to get his sister back in the house. He had no reason to fire."

"I know. But there's nothing I can do."

That definitely _wasn't_ going to change his mind. After a beat or two, he drew his service weapon and, his left hand on the barrel, held it out to his boss, then with his other hand slipped his badge off his belt. "Sorry I didn't give two weeks notice."

Burnett frowned at him, but took the gun, leaving the badge in Carlos's hand. "Why?"

"Do you have to ask?"

"Yes." The Captain set the weapon down, then took his glasses off and placed them next to it. "Is it that you got a friend in the hot seat right now? Is it Galiano? Is it the kid?"

"All of the above." Tommy most of all – no matter what anyone said, he _should _have been able to stop Galiano or at least protect the kids.

"There was nothing you could do about any of that, Carlos."

Clearly, he was missing the point. "All the more reason to leave."

His boss was quiet for a while, studying his desk before raising his eyes. "I'll make you a deal, Sandoval. Take leave, until this case is over – longer, if you need to – and think about it. You still want out, I won't argue with you." Burnett paused. "You're a good cop, Sandoval, and I don't want to lose you just because of a bad situation."

"This is beyond a bad situation." Carlos tossed his badge on the Captain's desk and turned to go. Hand on the door, he paused and turned back. "I'll think about it."

-------------------------

Watching the interrogation, Trivette resisted the urge to interrupt. Galiano was getting angry, probably from frustration at getting absolutely nowhere. He knew the feeling well himself, actually. It was usually around now that he and Walker started playing games, making threats, and trying to play their suspects against each other.

That wouldn't work in this case, however. First of all, Trent knew the games and wouldn't fall for them – hell, he'd played a few of them over the years. Second, he just wasn't guilty. Though he'd believed in the private investigator's innocence to begin with, the last hour or two of questioning had served only to set that belief in stone.

Actually, there was something else he'd gotten out of the whole thing – an assurance that he and Walker had been way off base in their earlier assessment of the situation. He really didn't believe that Galiano was setting Trent up. The man wanted it too bad, was pushing every button he could find to try to trip him up. If it was all a sham, he'd have closed the book on it as soon as they'd brought him in.

The woman, MacPherson, had been, by contrast, fairly quiet throughout the whole thing, occasionally asking a question or two but more often than not just interrupting to rein in her partner. She'd seemed to express genuine remorse over Tommy being injured, whereas Galiano's indifference had been clear. Jimmy wasn't quite sure what to make of her yet.

In truth, about half an hour ago he'd all but stopped listening; the questions were the same, worded differently in places – transparent attempts at a trap. Trent's answers, too, were starting to sound like a broken record, the only sign of his frustration being a slight change in tone as he repeated himself for the fifth or sixth time.

But then Galiano started talking again and something about his voice made Trivette focus once more. "Detective Sandoval's report indicates that Agent Deville's face was bruised when he saw her with you the night she was murdered, and the medical examiner confirmed that some of the bruising was old." He paused, tossing the folder he'd been scanning down on the table. "How did she get hurt?"

For the first time all afternoon – evening now, he supposed – Trent looked genuinely uncomfortable. After a long silence during which Galiano seemed to almost literally be chomping at the bit, the blond answered, his voice quiet. "From me. We were sparring, without equipment, and she missed blocking me a couple of times."

"You normally hit that hard when you're practicing?" Jimmy recognized the tone in the agent's voice; he really thought he had him. Not that he could blame him. Were their roles reversed, he'd have jumped on this too.

"No. But Kristin wanted to learn so she'd be better able to defend herself. She argued with me that if she got into a real fight, whoever she was up against wouldn't pull any punches, so she didn't want me too." He shifted. "I wasn't happy about it, but I let her make the call."

However Galiano planned to reply, it was forestalled by a knock at the door; Carlos stood just outside, waving him over. Excusing himself, he caught Trent's eye and nodded, making a silent promise to find out how Tommy was, then left the room.

Once in the hall, Jimmy's eyes honed in on the empty holster on the detective's hip. "What—?"

"Took a leave from the department," Sandoval said quietly. "I got a lot to figure out."

"If this is about Tommy—"

He shook his head. "It's not just that; it's a lot of things." What remained unsaid, and all too obvious, was that Tommy's shooting had been the final straw. "Look, I'm heading over to CD's to meet Walker, Gage, Cooke, and whoever else."

"Tell Walker I'll be by as soon as I think it's safe to leave Trent here with the vultures in there."

"Will do."

"How's Tommy?"

"They removed the bullet; he should be fine – no permanent damage. Going to be drugged up pretty good for a day or two though, for the pain."

That, at least, was good news; he hadn't heard much other than that the boy had been taken to the hospital by ambulance, and the lack of information about his condition had concerned him more than he really wanted to admit.

The creak of the interrogation room door silenced both of them. MacPherson stepped outside, closing it tightly behind her. "How is his brother?"

"He'll be all right." Carlos's animosity toward the woman was unmistakable and Trivette ignored the inclination to step between them.

"I'm glad." She hesitated. "I promised Malloy I'd let him know."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate it." Carlos gestured toward his holster. "By the way, you won't have to worry about my interfering in your investigation – in an official capacity, anyway."

The underlying meaning in his words was obvious to Jimmy, though he wasn't sure if MacPherson picked up on it. Carlos had every intention of carrying on his own investigation; that was probably no small part of why he'd turned in his badge.

Her response surprised them both. "I'm sorry to hear that." She stopped speaking and glanced over her shoulder, presumably checking to see if her partner was paying attention to them or to the suspect, then turned back. "I think you're right. I think there's something else going on here." She slipped a hand into her jacket pocket, producing a business card that she then handed to Carlos. "My cell phone number is on there. Call me later, please."

Raising an eyebrow at her, the detective nonetheless pocketed it, nodding. Trivette, for his part, just watched the exchange – particularly the parts that went unspoken. It appeared that some sort of truce had been declared, though he wasn't sure how or why.

As she opened the door and retreated back into the interrogation room, something else occurred to him, and as he started to walk away with Carlos – there really was little for him to do here at this point – he shared his thoughts with the other man, keeping his voice low. "She doesn't seem to trust Galiano much, for being partnered with him."

"Can you blame her?" Carlos asked sourly, then shook his head. "Yeah, I noticed that too." He sighed, pushing the door open and stepping out into the evening light. "Something just seems wrong about this whole thing."

Trivette clapped him on the shoulder as they stopped by his car. "We'll figure it out." He cracked a smile. "Walker always does."

Carlos met his eyes. "You know the worst part?" Jimmy was quiet for a moment, thinking over the possibilities, then shook his head. "Everything about the case just screams to me that Trent's guilty."


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** In the Name of the Law

**Summary:** A woman turns up dead and all signs point to Trent Malloy as the guilty party – but is there more to the story, and can Carlos, Alex, and the Rangers search out the truth?

**A/N:** Sorry it took so long to update. Real life sucks. And I'm moving now, so it may be a few weeks before the next one :( Sorry.

**Chapter ****8**

Alex looked up as Carlos and Jimmy walked into CD's, the last to arrive. Trivette looked calm, as ever, but Trent's best friend wore the strain on his face. She wasn't surprised; not only was it killing him that Trent was in this situation, but he was close to the Malloy family as a whole, and Tommy's shooting must have hit him hard.

To her surprise, no sooner had the detective nodded a greeting to the group and asked CD for a beer than he sat down and faced her. "Alex, what are the chances of a successful case against Tony Galiano?"

She'd _known_ he was going to ask that, and wished she had better news. The truth was, she'd already tested the waters, and the signs weren't promising. "Slim, Carlos. He's a federal agent, it was a difficult situation, and right now everyone's leaning toward writing what happened off as an accident. No one's willing to take him on." She hesitated, the same part of her that was unwilling to quash his hopes likewise unwilling to let Galiano get away with what he'd done. "_If_ Katie really wants to try, I'll see what I can do. But it will take time, and it won't be easy. And there are _no_ guarantees."

"She'll want to try; I can guarantee it."

"Let me know and I'll start the paperwork. Warn her, though, that I'll need statements from Tommy and the twins, too, in addition to you and Trent – and that, if it ever actually makes it to trial, they'd have to testify in court." She wasn't sure how Mrs. Malloy would feel about having her youngest children involved.

"I will."

Walker, listening quietly to their conversation until now, cleared his throat and she followed his gaze toward Jimmy as he asked, "How did it go at the station?"

Trivette shook his head. "Trent held his own for the most part. Galiano's getting nowhere and he's ready to snap." He paused. "I think we were wrong; I don't think it's a setup – at least not one he's involved in."

"Why?"

"Just the way he handled the whole thing; I think he really thinks Trent's guilty – and I think that's why he was so quick on the trigger this afternoon."

Alex saw CD, their drinks in hand, stop short behind Trivette. "Jimmy, you aren't making excuses for that louse, are you?"

The Ranger twisted in his chair to glance up at the older man, then turned back around. "No, CD, I'm not. I'm just saying I don't think he intended to shoot Tommy; I think he really saw him as a threat."

"I'm not sure how I feel about a man who sees an unarmed seventeen-year-old as a threat requiring deadly force, carrying a badge and a gun," Alex said quietly, and CD nodded his agreement as he set the beers down.

"Well, that's another issue entirely," Jimmy defended himself, taking a sip and looking around the table, pleading with his eyes for someone else to take the floor.

After a moment, Gage apparently took pity on him and spoke up. "Actually, I think Trivette is right. According to what Syd and I dug up, Galiano's received all sorts of commendations for his work. He doesn't sound like the type who'd shoot an innocent kid."

"But," Sydney said, "his last partner, before he was assigned with MacPherson, was killed by a fifteen-year-old girl who he'd searched and missed the knife she had on her. Sounds like he wasn't taking any chances with the Malloys."

"I don't care; that doesn't make it right," CD growled, and Syd met his stare.

"I never said it did; I was just saying _why_ it happened." The ex-Ranger grumbled something under his breath as he retreated back to the bar, and Alex would have smiled if the situation hadn't been so serious.

"Anyway," Gage took over again, "There was really nothing interesting on MacPherson – pretty average agent, nothing disciplinary, nothing exemplary. She's been working with Galiano for almost a year, and it looks like this has been the only case they've been involved in together."

"Any connection between either of them and Trent?"

"Nothing. And no one's talking about why he was chosen to work with Deville."

"What do you expect?" CD called from back behind the bar. "Look at who you're dealing with." Alex did smile at that. CD hadn't quite lost the trademark disdain for federal law enforcement that most locals tended to have.

"True enough," Carlos muttered darkly, staring into his beer. He shook his head. "_Everything_ we have points to Trent."

"Not everything," Walker spoke up, and Alex shifted her eyes from the detective to her husband. "We still have that hitter Trivette found, out of San Antonio. I want to send someone to check up on him."

"I'll do it," Carlos volunteered, and Alex glanced back toward him, surprised.

"I was told you were being pulled off of this."

He gave her a mirthless smile. "I'm on an indefinite leave of absence." Somehow, that didn't surprise her in the least, though she _was_ sorry that he'd ever been put in this situation in the first place, and told him that. He just shrugged and said, "It's not just Trent," but didn't offer any further explanation, and she didn't ask.

As the uncomfortable silence stretched out to cover several minutes, Walker finally spoke again. "Anyone come up with anything else?"

"We may have." Jimmy gestured between himself and Carlos. "When Carlos stopped by the interrogation room and we were talking in the hall, MacPherson came out after a couple of minutes, to ask how Tommy was. She said she'd promised Trent she'd let him know."

"And then," Carlos took over, "after I told her I was on leave and wouldn't be involved officially, she said she was sorry to hear that, and she thinks I'm right and there's something else going on. She kept checking on Galiano to make sure he wasn't looking our way, then she gave me her business card and told me to call her cell phone later."

"Do it, and let me know if she gives you anything. Then head out to San Antonio and see what you can find out." He paused. "I don't want you going alone though. Gage and Sydney will go with you. In the meantime, Trivette and I will talk to Trent again, and look into the crew he and Deville were investigating. There are a lot of angles that aren't being covered right now, and I want to change that." Calls to Judge Harper began to play through Alex's mind.

Carlos nodded. "Sounds good. I'm going to stop by the hospital for an hour or so first; I want to talk to Katie and check in on Tommy one more time, then let her know where I'm going. You'll keep her updated about how things go with Trent?"

"I'll call you whenever we find out anything, and I want you three to check in every four hours."

"And I'll give you a call after we file against Galiano," Alex promised.

Sydney nodded. "I'll call the airline and have them hold tickets for us. We'll meet you at the airport at, say, eight o'clock?"

"See you there." Alex watched him stand to leave, looking even more exhausted than when he'd come in.

-------------------------

Carlos lowered himself slowly into the chair next to Tommy's bed. Katie had been more than open to the idea of pressing charges against Galiano; she'd gotten past her worry for her son and was well down the road toward wanting blood from the man responsible. He'd made a quick call to Alex to let her know, and she'd promised to come down with Trivette to talk to her. His own statement was on file downtown already.

He reached out to rest a hand on the boy's shoulder. Whatever anyone else said, he felt responsible. The idea of arresting Trent had made him sick to his stomach, but he'd demanded to go, because he didn't want anyone to get hurt. Then Tommy had anyway. "I'm sorry, kiddo; I shouldn't have let this happen."

"It wasn't your fault."

He didn't bother to turn to face MacPherson. "Says you."

"Says a lot of people. Including Trent Malloy."

Now he faced her. "What?"

"After Tony decided to take a break for a while – I haven't seen him get so frustrated by a suspect in a long, long time by the way – I talked with him for a few minutes. I told him that his brother's going to be okay, and he told me to tell you not to blame yourself." She hesitated, then gestured toward the other chair, set against the wall. "Mind if I sit down?"

Carlos shrugged. "Suit yourself."

She was silent for a few minutes before saying, "I'm so sorry; I should have known what he was going to do."

"If it's not my fault, it's not yours."

"You don't understand; I should have known he'd shoot first and ask questions later. His partner—"

"Was killed by a kid. Yeah, I know." He gave her a bitter smirk. "We do our homework too."

"I'm not surprised."

"It doesn't make it okay." He felt like he was channeling CD, though the man's comments earlier had made him feel like the ex-Ranger was channeling him.

"I know; I never said it did, and I've filed a report with my superiors. I thought you would want to know."

"The DA's going to file charges against him."

"I'm not surprised; I don't expect she'll get anywhere though," she replied honestly.

Carlos shrugged again, feeling more than a little like he was fraternizing with the enemy. "She doesn't expect to herself."

"Just have to try?"

"Something like that." Carlos shifted in his seat. "I was going to call you. We have another lead – a hitman who matches the physical I got from the witness. I'm going with a couple of Rangers to check him out, see if he's got any connection to Deville."

"Would you mind keeping me informed of your progress?"

"So you and Galiano can stop me as soon as I come up with anything?"

"So we can find the truth. Detective, you're reading Tony wrong. Kristin was his partner when they both first started with ATF. This is personal for him, and he wants nothing more than to find the person responsible. It just happens that right now he's convinced of your friend's guilt. If you give him something else, he'll follow up on it or die trying."

"Sure."

"I mean it, Sandoval. We aren't trying to railroad Malloy; I wouldn't be here if we were. We want to nail the person who did this as much as you do, and if we put Malloy away for this and he's innocent, that means the guilty party goes free. And I think you can agree that's something none of us want."

She had him there; he was starting to believe her and he wasn't sure he liked it. "I'll keep you informed."

-------------------------

Sydney set her carry-on at her feet and glanced toward the door. "He'd better get here soon."

"Give the guy a break, Syd. He's taking the whole thing kind of hard."

"Which is exactly what bothers me," she replied.

Gage raised an eyebrow at her. Surely, she had to understand where the detective was coming from. "What, you think he should just be able to shrug off seeing the kid get shot?"

She stared at him, eyes wide. "Of course not. I just think he's too close to all this. He's blaming himself for the boy getting hurt – you can see it in his face. I just think he's lost his objectivity."

"Does he really have to be objective? I mean, we all agree that Malloy isn't guilty, don't we?" He'd been skeptical at first, sure that Walker and Trivette were missing what was right in front of them because they knew the killer. But more and more, something was feeling off about the whole thing. "What does he need to be objective for? He wants this guy, and I for one think that's kind of a good thing."

Sydney shrugged. "When things get personal, people get careless, and then they get hurt."

"Syd, Sandoval's a good cop. I talked to Walker earlier about him, for a few minutes. He knows the guy pretty well; he's worked with him before. He didn't seem bothered by it; I don't think we should be."

His partner rolled her eyes. "Well, let's just hope that you're right, and I'm wrong."

Gage grinned. He couldn't resist the opening she'd unintentionally provided. "Does that mean I might, I don't know, get some sort of admission of wrongness?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Right." She smirked then, slowly, shook her head. "If I were you, I wouldn't get my hopes up."

He gave her a mocking glare and forced a laugh. Just _once_ he wanted to win against her. Once. Was that really too much to ask?


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Where to first?" Carlos asked as they walked out of the airport. He wasn't too keen on jumping in with both feet without taking the time to regroup first. Cooke apparently had the same thought.

"Let's head to the hotel," Sydney suggested, "and figure out where to go from there. Trivette gave me a file he pulled together on the guy we're looking for, including known aliases, and a few photos of him, Malloy, and Deville."

"Broderick," Carlos corrected. "She's been going by Broderick for almost a year; people are probably more likely to know her by that than by her real name."

"If they know her by name at all," Gage pointed out. "They may not."

"Point." Carlos glanced down the row of cabs, looking for a free one, and started walking, the two Rangers half a step behind him. "Where to?"

"Hilton, across town," Cooke replied. "That's the area Melendez's boys tend to work, and he owns a couple clubs a few streets over from the hotel."

He felt a little uneasy being on the mobster's turf, but time wasn't something they had an abundance of, and he liked even less the idea of wasting what little they had driving all over San Antonio. "Sounds good."

"Twenty bucks says Melendez'll know we're here before we even get on our feet," Gage said as he handed his bag to the cabbie, then went to take his partner's. She pulled it back, brushing by him to hand it off herself, and Carlos stifled a laugh as they got into the cab.

The ride was silent for the most part, interrupted occasionally by a few jabs exchanged between Gage and Cooke. Discussing the case was safer kept for behind closed doors. As soon as they'd reached the hotel, though, he pulled out his cell phone and MacPherson's business card and called her cell.

It wasn't until they'd reached their rooms, two adjoining, that he said anything specific to the case. On the short flight over, he'd come to the conclusion that if he wanted to get anything out of MacPherson and Galiano, he'd have to give them something first, so he felt marginally comfortable dropping Melendez's name. "Can you find out if there was any connection between Deville and either Alejandro Melendez or an enforcer, a professional hitter, named Jackson White?"

"The name isn't familiar," she replied, "but Tony would know better than I would. I'll run the names through our database, and let you know if anything comes up."

"Thanks." Expressing any sort of gratitude to the woman felt awkward and unnatural, but he really did appreciate her assistance – for however much it might end up being worth. "If I come up with any other names, I'll call."

"Thank you."

He hung up and tossed his cell phone on the bed, blazer soon to follow. "Any ideas on how to play this?"

"Not a one." Gage sat down backwards on the desk chair and faced him.

Cooke sat down on the bed, one leg curled beneath her. "None of this has really hit the press, has it? Malloy's arrest, I mean?"

"I don't think so," Carlos replied slowly, "but I haven't really picked up a newspaper in the last day or so."

"There was an article this morning," Gage cut in, "but all it said was that a Jane Doe was found dead, and the police had a suspect – not even anything about the suspect being in custody."

"What if we run it as if we haven't arrested him yet, and we're looking for him?" Cooke suggested. "If it's a frame, they're probably going to be a lot more willing to help us out if they think we're buying it."

"And maybe screw up, let something slip?" Gage asked.

"Or at least prove to us that there's some sort of connection here." Carlos drew his gun from his holster, checking to make sure it was fully loaded. However they were playing this, he wasn't going to get his hopes up that it was all going to go as planned – it never did. "Let's go."

-------------------------

"This is going to end with him getting some sort of informal reprimand and the case thrown out of court, isn't it?" Alex looked up from her paperwork and glanced over at her husband. Almost as much as seeing people get away with things, she hated working hard on a case knowing full well it was going to be useless.

Even more than that, she hated _knowing_ it was going to be useless, that there was nothing she could do.

"Well, it might be a _formal_ reprimand," Walker replied, dragging her from her thoughts.

"You are _no_ help."

"I know."

Alex rolled her eyes and sighed, closing the manila folder in front of her and pushing it aside. She eyed her husband, who'd been surprisingly closed-mouthed since the whole thing had started – and even more since Trent's arrest. He hadn't really talked to Trent at all yet, which she found a little strange. "How are you holding up?" she asked softly.

"I'm fine."

"Sit."

He raised an eyebrow at her, but did as he was told – for once. "I'm fine, Alex."

"Why haven't you talked to Trent?"

"Because I haven't had the chance."

He was being evasive, like he always did when a case hit too close to home. "You could have. You could have gone to the station with Carlos when he resigned."

"He took a leave," the Ranger interrupted, and she frowned at him.

"Technicality." Unless something changed, it was going to become a resignation; she could feel it. "You _should_ have gone with him, but you didn't. How come?"

"I'll talk to him, Alex. I'm going to go there before I go home."

"That's not what I asked," she told him quietly. "You're avoiding him. Trent is almost like a _son_ to you. Why aren't you even talking to him?"

"I _will_, Alex." He was getting frustrated, which meant one of two things. Either she'd keep pushing him and he'd talk to get her to shut up, or he'd shut her out entirely – which were better odds than if she left it alone right now.

"Why haven't you yet?"

"Because I don't know what to say to him; I still haven't figured it out."

That wasn't what she'd been expecting – not that she'd really had a guess as to why. "Walker, you don't think he's guilty?"

"No, of course not." He shook his head. "But… it's only because I know him. If I look at it from a law enforcement perspective, he looks guilty, and I know him well enough to know that he's going to ask me my professional opinion and I don't know what to tell him when he does."

It made sense, and she should have expected as much. "Trent's a grown man," she reminded him gently. "Do you really think he doesn't _know_ how it looks? You're not going to destroy him by telling him the truth, Walker. But by being conspicuously absent – especially now, with Tommy in the hospital…" she trailed off. "How do you think he sees that?"

"I'm going to talk to him, Alex."

"Now?"

He gave her an exasperated look, then nodded. "Yes, now. Are you happy?"

She pursed her lips and smiled. "Quite."

Walker rolled his eyes then shook his head, but smiled back. "Good." He started to stand, then sat back down. "Can I leave now?"

Alex laughed at him. "You're free to go, Ranger." Then she winked at him. "But don't leave town."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

-------------------------

Trent was sitting on his cot, leaning against the wall when Walker came up to his cell. His eyes were closed and his lips moved slowly, in silent prayer that Cordell couldn't quite decipher. He rapped lightly on the bars and his former student leaned forward, opening his eyes, looking more pleased to see him than Walker thought he ought to. "Hey."

"How are you holding up?" The same words Alex had asked him only an hour earlier.

"I'm… surviving. How's Tommy?"

"He hasn't woken up yet, but he will, and he'll be just fine."

"How's Carlos?"

Walker frowned. "You'll have to talk to him about that yourself," he told him finally, knowing full well Trent wouldn't leave it at that.

Which he didn't. He was on his feet in a moment and halfway across the cell. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"Trent—"

The younger man shook his head. "No, Walker. My brother has been _shot_ and I'm locked in here. The least you can do is tell me what's going on!"

He had a point, as the Ranger had known he would, which was reason number two he had been avoiding visiting the martial artist. "He took a leave of absence from the force," he replied quietly.

Trent took a step back, looking a little stunned at the revelation. "Because of Tommy?"

"I don't think so; not entirely at least. I think Carlos just has some thinking to do."

"He shouldn't have been there."

"He wanted to be there."

They fell into an uneasy silence, both staring at the floor until they looked up at the same moment. "Walker, can I ask you something?"

Sure that he knew what his question would be, Cordell shook his head. "There's something I need to ask you first."

"Shoot," Trent replied, then winced at his own choice of words.

"Did you kill her?" Walker kept his voice completely even, completely void of any emotion, and fixed his eyes on Trent's. The younger man tensed, but then something passed between them unspoken and he seemed to relax slightly.

"No." His voice was likewise steady, without the tension or edge Walker might have expected, had he not known Trent as well as he did.

"I had to ask, and I won't again."

"I know."

"My turn," Trent said quietly, and Walker steeled himself for a question he wasn't sure he could answer. But what Trent asked surprised him. "When Ellen… was killed, how did you move on?"

Walker was quiet for a long time, then slowly shook his head. "That's a loaded question, Trent." He paused. "It's complicated; your situation is different from mine."

"No one thought you killed her," Trent said bitterly.

"That's part of it." Walker went quiet and motioned to one of the guards to unlock the cell. With Trent freed for the moment, they walked quietly toward an interrogation room.

Both sat in silence for a minute or two before the Ranger finished his feeble attempt at answering Trent. "I also had to deal with knowing I was there and couldn't help her. You have to deal with wondering if you could've helped her _if_ you'd been there." He shook his head slowly and rested both arms on the table in front of him. "I wish I could help you, Trent, but it was time that got me through it, and that's what it will take for you, too."

In truth, he hadn't realized how strongly Trent felt for this woman, and he felt a little guilty at that. The younger man's reaction when they'd suggested that Deville had lied to him should have been enough of an indication, but somewhere along the line he'd missed it.

Looking pained, Trent changed the subject after a few seconds of strained silence. "How's Tommy, really?"

"He's going to be fine. Really. It was a clean shoulder wound, and he made it to the hospital very quickly. He's a strong kid, and he's recovering fine. He's pretty out of it right now from the painkillers they have him on, and he'll have a scar, but he _will_ be fine."

Trent closed his eyes, and again Walker saw his lips move. This time, he could make out the prayer of thankfulness. "Carlos blames himself," he said, his eyes still closed.

"I know, and any number of people have told him he shouldn't, but, well, I'm not sure who has a harder head," Walker admitted, "you or him."

The younger man laughed outright. "You have us all beaten there."

Walker seemed to consider that for a moment before nodding. "That may be."

Trent shook his head, a smile on his face for another moment or two before it faltered. "I feel like it's my fault."

"It's not Carlos's and it's not yours," the Ranger admonished him. "The way it seems right now, you got in over your head a little, but the agent who fired that bullet is the one responsible Tommy being injured."

"There are so many things I should have done differently." Trent looked less despairing and more frustrated – the same type of frustration Walker was accustomed to seeing in the younger man during a particularly tough case.

"There are always things we should have done differently," Walker told him quietly. "But we usually don't know that until it's too late." He allowed his words to hang in the air for a while, then changed the subject. "Trent, was there anyone in Emerson's group who looked at all like you – even just a similar build, even with a different hair color?"

Trent was quiet for a moment, a thoughtful expression in his eyes, before he slowly shook his head. "Most of them were the stereotypical goons – big guys, burly, muscle-bound enforcers. You know the type."

Walker nodded. He knew the type well, and he usually let Trivette handle them; it was a character-building exercise, though his partner didn't see it the same way. "Had anything gone wrong; had things changed at all? Had anything happened that might have suggested someone would come after her, or you?"

"I've asked myself that a million times, Walker, and the only thing I can come up with is what we were fighting about the night she was killed. Emerson wanted her to go to some meeting in California; I don't know anything more than that. He'd only asked her a day or two before she died. She jumped at the chance and I wanted her to find some way to turn him down, but she wouldn't have it."

"Sydney and Gage said she met someone in a bar after she left your place. Could it have been one of Emerson's lackeys, taking her to the airport or wherever they'd leave from?"

"They were supposed to leave…" he hesitated, frowning, "tomorrow, I think, so no. She never said anything about a meeting." Light dawned in his eyes. "We were supposed to go out that night, to dinner, but because of the argument, we didn't. I don't see why she would have been meeting someone."

"Maybe you were supposed to be at that meeting too," Walker said quietly.

"You think they meant to kidnap me?" Trent raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "No offense, Walker, but I don't see it."

"Just thinking out loud. She also could have called someone after the two of you argued, or someone could have called her. Maybe Carlos wasn't the only person who saw you fighting. Maybe…"

Trent made a face and shook his head. "For the record, I hate that word."


End file.
